


I Will Save Myself

by JBankai89



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Abuse, Gang Rape, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Illness, Multi, Muteness, POV Alternating, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, PostWar, Prostitution, Rape, Recovery, Recreational Drug Use, Ron Weasley Bashing, Ron is a total twat, Slut Shaming, Stalking, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Threesome, Trauma, Triad - Freeform, consensual voyeurism, mute character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-02-08 03:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 139,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12855519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JBankai89/pseuds/JBankai89
Summary: In the six years since the war, Harry Potter has constructed a nice little life as an Auror. Still a trainee, he is regarded as one of the best, and at last is known for something other than his famous name and scar.Draco Malfoy Has not known joy since the end of the war. With himself and his parents exiled from the wizarding world, his father lost to his own madness thanks to a curse from an attacker, and his mother left to care for him, Draco is the sole breadwinner for the family. Draco feels that he can handle it all—maintain his multitude of substance addictions, work as an erotic dancer and prostitute, and keep it a secret from his family.That is, until Severus Snape stumbles upon his secret on a fluke, and after further investigating the dire situation Draco and his family find themselves in, he seeks out the help of Harry Potter. It was his negligence during the trials following the war that had secured the Malfoys' exile, and it was time for Harry to own up to that crass mistake. Whether or not it is too late remains to be seen, but what is certain is that everything was about to change.





	1. Truth

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Written for NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) 2017. I will be updating every Tuesday, so the next update will be December 5th. There are a lot of elements in this story I have never written about before, in particular drug use and selective mutism. I did a ton of research and pestered a ton of people about these topics, and while I am fairly certain I did an okay job of representing it, if anyone feels that my descriptions are off, feel free to point it out to me.
> 
> Please note that the endgame for this fic will be Severus/Harry/Draco. If that's not your thing, probably best to pass this one by.

_You taught my heart a sense I never knew I had,_

_I can forget the times that I was lost and depressed from the awful truth,_

_How do you do it?_

_You're my Heroine_

_My Heroine – Silverstein (Discovering the Waterfront, Victory Records, 2005)_

Chapter One – Truth

 

Of all the things that Harry James Potter, Auror, and Saviour of the Wizarding World expected to see in his office on a dreary Monday morning in late February was one Severus Snape.

He did not expect it for a number of reasons. Chief amongst them was Snape's explicit desire to never lay eyes on Harry, Ron, or Hermione ever again, nor to set foot in the Ministry after being cleared of all charges, with the addition of his Order of Merlin, Second Class, which he received only after Harry's insistent pushing and pestering of the current Minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Snape's anger had not been unwarranted—he'd barely survived the war, and had the scars to prove it. Despite all the memory evidence to Snape's heroism that Harry provided, the Wizengamot was still reluctant to clear a known Death Eater of the charges laid against him, and his treatment at their hands had not been kind.

However, Severus Snape had a great capacity for caring of others, though he'd never willingly admit to such a thing. His anger, total and complete, and his reasoning for it had been not for how _he_ had been treated, but rather how his former student, who had always regarded him so highly, had been.

Even six years later, Harry felt as though Lucius had gotten off easy. He had indeed tried to spare Narcissa and Draco the same treatment, considering their vague attempts to save him, both during their very brief incarceration at their Manor and later on the front lines of the final battle, but the Wizengamot regarded them all as wicked Death Eaters, and would not be swayed.

 

_“Your wands are to be snapped, and your exile to the non-magical world will be total and complete. Your manor and wealth is to be seized and used as recompense for the pain and suffering your Master wreaked upon our world, and you will never return. Presence within any magical community or space—Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Godric's Hollow, or any others, and you will be subject to immediate arrest.”_

 

Harry had felt bad for them; he remembered how Narcissa had wept into Lucius's shoulder, and Draco had stared ahead unseeing, a haunted look in his eyes. At the same time, his sympathy did not exactly stretch very far. In the grand scheme of things, they were still alive and free, and so many that should be are not.

Snape had been beyond furious that Harry had not stepped in to save them, and even now, Harry doubted that there was anything more that he could have done. Draco's verdict was still leaps and bounds better than his former housemates, most of whom were still in Azkaban, and a few of the more vicious Slytherins from his year had even been subject to the Dementor's Kiss. Like with the Malfoys' trial, Harry had been unable to sway the Wizengamot away from the decision to perform such a heinous act upon a seventeen-year-old.

 

 _“You may as well have laid their necks upon the chopping block, Potter,_ ” Snape had snarled at him furiously. _“They are defenceless on the outskirts of a world who wants to see them dead. If they survive the_ week _I will be genuinely surprised.”_

 

Harry's protests that he had tried had never placated the man, and he had raged more intensely than Harry had ever seen—save for when he and Hermione had helped Sirius escape.

As a result, seeing him standing stock-still in his office, his brow furrowed into an angry glare, Harry had a feeling that whatever had brought Snape out of his premature retirement, it wasn't anything one might call _good._

“Professor Snape?” Harry prompted as casually as he could, and stepped forward, his fingers curling around the spring-loaded arm holster where he kept his wand—just in case. “How may I help you?”

“I am sure in the fifteen seconds it takes you to rack your feeble brain, you can surmise why I am here,” he replied in an even, dangerous calm that impressed upon Harry just how truly furious he was.

“Well, if I were to guess,” Harry began as he strode over to his desk, and reached into one of the drawers for his _extreme cases,_ and pulled out his bottle of firewhisky. Snape curled his lip in disgust, and shook his head sharply as Harry produced a pair of glasses, and poured out a measure for each of them. He knocked back the drink before he spoke again. “I would assume that this has something to do with Draco Malfoy, since you damn near bit my head off following his family's sentencing hearing. Like I told you then, I did all that I could—”

“—if I may dip into the crass vocabulary of a Weasley,” Snape said silkily, “ _bollocks_.” His expression narrowed further into a glare sharp enough to cut through steel. “You did _nothing_ to protect Narcissa or Draco. Their foolish pride impeded me from visiting, but I kept an eye on them nonetheless, since I assumed that _you_ would be too busy courting Ginevra and thinking of ginger-haired babies and your sparkling Auror career to think about the young man who's life you have ruined. Would you care to hear the charming tale, or do you wish to live in denial a little while longer?”

“Look, Snape, I _told_ you,” Harry said with a heavy sigh as he slumped down in his seat and poured himself another finger of whisky, “there was a limit to what I could do. The Malfoys were in Voldemort's inner circle—as were _you_. You were a double-agent, they were not. Yeah, I agree that Draco really didn't deserve a lot of the shite he had the deal with, but what d'you want me to do about it? The last report I saw, they'd assimilated into muggle society and adjusted—”

“— _adjusted_ ,” Snape sneered with disgust. “That is a _lie_. Who told you this? One of your superiors? Or perhaps a former member of the Order? Assimilated, yes, adjusted...that is about the farthest thing from the truth. Desperation pushed them to their limits, and it is a miracle any of them have hung on this long, how _dare_ you sit there and act as though you are the country's greatest hero, when you leave Draco to suffer so—”

“—can you stop ranting and raving for thirty seconds and tell me what the hell this is about?” Harry cut in tiredly, “as much as I love listening to you try and cut me down like you used to do in school, I would like to get on with my day at some point.”

Snape's expression settled into another angry scowl, and he reluctantly sat down across from Harry. For the moment at least, he was silent, but his expression did not soften at all. Snape had always been wildly protective of Draco, especially following the war, and so far, Harry really had no reason to believe that Draco was _actually_ in any real danger.

“Following their exile, I kept watch on them,” Snape began, steepling his fingers as he gazed across the desk at Harry. “I knew that their pride was too great to allow me to see how far they'd truly sunk, and so I watched them in secret, fending off angry witches and wizards who wished them harm.

“They had been integrated into the muggle populace, and given council housing and a meagre welfare state sum every month. I knew this only from following Draco and watching him cash the cheques, and  I do not believe that sum stretched very far.

“I intervened when I could, but Draco found me out and I needed to take a step back from watching over them—which was when _they_ attacked.” Snape paused to offer Harry another nasty glare, and Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He knew precisely which _they_ Snape was referring to. A faction of _Death Eater Hunters_ , as they called themselves, they broke in to the Malfoys' flat and snapped Lucius's wits.

Harry knew of the curse, but the Auror instructors refused to even show it to the trainees. It was like _Avada Kedavra_ upon the mind, and there was no cure. Lucius Malfoy would be a babbling, hopeless case for the rest of his life.

At the time, Harry had thought little of it, beyond feeling a mild twinge of sympathy for Draco. Despite everything, he knew how much his former classmate had hero-worshipped his father, and to see him like that must be difficult.

“Allow me to spell out for what what occurred following that _unfortunate incident,_ ” Snape sneered. “Lucius was taken to a muggle hospital when St Mungo's would not admit him, and Draco and Narcissa were nearly arrested for stepping on the hospital's premises. He was diagnosed as a low-functioning schizophrenic, and is force-fed a handful of drugs by Narcissa every day since to keep him calm. She cares for her husband like one might care for a small child, and Draco Malfoy, at eighteen years old, was the sole breadwinner of their family. In his desperation to make ends meet, can you imagine what he may have done, a young man as _pretty_ as he is?”

The word _pretty_ , with Snape's sneering enunciation, hinted at only one thing. Harry felt as though a block of ice had settled into his stomach as the realization hit him full on.

 

~*~

 

Draco shivered. February was hardly the right season for clothing made of mesh, but he knew that prospective clients like to see what they were paying for before they bought it.

Milky white skin under a V-neck top made of see-through mesh and tight leather trousers, it was the most expensive outfit he owned.

And he'd bought it second-hand.

“Oh, darling, you'll never make it through today if you keep trembling like that,” Vic Blithely cooed, and he rested a hand at his back as he brushed the bump under his nose. “Have a sniff. No one likes a depressed slut.”

Draco obeyed, and snorted sharply. The powder burned his nose, but the promised high was like a placebo, and he already felt the thrill of euphoria run through him as he waited for the drug to kick in. He licked his dry lips and shifted his gaze to his pimp, who was bent into a sleek black Mercedes, and was talking to the driver. From a distance he couldn't hear what Vic was saying, but the sickly, smooth tone in which he spoke told Draco that he'd lured in the client. Now it was just a matter of discussing _payment_.

Draco shuddered inwardly, but did not allow the sultry smile to fall from his lips. Over the years, he'd become rather good at faking attraction, and when the passenger-side door finally opened and motioned for Draco to slip inside, he was able to keep his sheer disgust in check at the overweight man who sat in the driver's seat.

His chubby fingers pawed at his face, and Draco forced himself to not react in revulsion. Instead, he smiled.

“Like what you see?” he purred, and the man's face did not lift from its scowl, his bristly moustache seeming to huff right along with him as he retracted his hand clapped it back on the steering wheel.

“You'll do.”

Draco swallowed his disappointment at the curt response behind a mask of eagerness. He fidgeted in his seat, bit his lip, and kept his eyes down on his knees. He knocked them together in an absentminded sort of way, while he sat on his hands to keep from fidgeting _too_ much, and thus ruining the image of himself as a shy virgin that the dirty old men who paid for his services seemed to enjoy so much.

 

They pulled up outside a grubby old motel, but the man parked in the burger bar next door. Draco did not question this—it was often a tactic for if someone they knew passed by, they would not suspect he was doing anything _untoward_.

Without speaking, the man led him across the grassy partition between the burger bar and the motel, and Draco waited outside while the man went in to pay for a room. It did not take him very long, and he stepped back out in under ten minutes with a key ring in his hand.

“We're number four,” he grunted, and narrowed his eyes when Draco did not immediately move. “Come on then,” he barked, making Draco jump. “I haven't got all day!”

Mumbling a quick apology, Draco hastened to follow, and followed the fat man to the door with a large '4' affixed to the door, the false gold paint peeling off it, and the door itself painted an awful off-white—although it could have simply been grime, Draco wasn't certain.

The man unlocked the door, and hastily yanked Draco inside. Only his years of practice stopped him from tripping over his own feet, and he followed the man fluidly, as though he'd done this all his life.

“Strip off,” the man said as soon as the door snapped shut, “I want to make sure I'm getting what I paid for.”

Draco did as he was told, and peeled off each garment slowly, allowing his customer a good long look as he peeled off the mesh top, kicked off his boots, and peeled himself out of his tight trousers. He bowed forward, making a show of setting aside his clothing, and gave his cock a few extra pulls, lending further to the illusion that he genuinely _wanted_ this.

When Draco straightened up, allowing the man another long look at him, his eyes dropped to his forearm, and his brow furrowed.

Draco tensed.

_Did I accidentally get picked up by wizard? Or a Squib?_

“That mark...it looks familiar...” the man grunted, and his brow furrowed even further. His eyes flicked back up to Draco's face, and his expression settled into a discontented scowl. “Are you one of _that lot_?”

“Which lot would that be?” Draco asked innocently, and prayed that his nonplussed expression looked genuine. “I've had this...erm, _tattoo_ since I was a teenager, sir.”

The man harrumphed, but still appeared to be far from pleased about whatever was bothering him. Draco relaxed a little when the man quickly moved on.

“Get on the bed.”

 

It progressed as every single encounter before it. It was so mechanical that Draco almost felt as though he was a mindless factory worker at an assembly line.

The drugs had begun to wear off, and Draco took another hit off his Emergency bump he kept with him for those just-in-case moments. Draco lay down on the bed, and pulled out his lubricant. He prepared himself in full-view of his customer, who watched with a hungry gaze. His customer snatched the lubricant from him, and yanked open his trousers, slicking up his cock before he demanded that Draco get on all fours.

It never changed.

Draco listened to the man make his approach, and his magic crackled around him dangerously, threatening to burst from him in his terror and shame. He took a breath, and forced down his fear.

_Do it for them._

Images of his mother and father floated into his mind, and his eyes stung with unshed tears. The memories helped to keep him grounded and focused on his goal, and kept his wayward accidental magic in check.

The large, heavy body of his customer blanketed him, and Draco keened as though he was enjoying it. He did not dare turn to check whether his customer had bothered to wear a condom.

Draco shuddered when he felt the man orgasm, and he felt tears sting his eyes at the way his spunk stayed in him after he'd pulled out.

_Looks like I'll be taking a trip to hospital before I can go home..._

Draco rolled his shoulders uneasily at the idea. He knew that wizards were not immune to HIV, and he'd been careful to be tested regularly, but sometimes his clients did not care very much for his sexual well-being.

_Oh, how the mighty have fallen..._

“Your payment,” the man grunted, and tossed a wad of bank notes onto the bedspread where Draco still lay. “I've already paid your man.”

“Thank you,” Draco replied in a soft, weak tone of voice that his former, arrogant self would have balked at.

The man did not wait, but left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Draco got dressed slowly, then returned the key to the receptionist before he headed down to the car park. He began the long walk from the motel on the barest edge of town to the hospital, his payment stuffed into the crotch of his trousers for safekeeping. He did not dare spend a cent of it on something as luxurious as a cab ride, but luckily, it seemed as though he would not be subject to hypothermia on top of everything else as a black cab slowed to a stop next to him, and the window rolled down.

“Oi, sweetheart!” the cabbie called to him, “fancy a ride for a ride?”

Draco smirked, and did not even hesitate as he climbed into the cab.

“Where you headed, darling?” the cabbie asked as Draco settled in next to him, and the older man began to palm his stiffy through his trousers. He wasn't awful-looking, all things considered—skinny, with dark skin and hair, and his silvery locks were brushed back in a professional style more like a businessman than a cab driver, but they were wavy, and curled back at the base of his neck in quiet rebellion. The identification card affixed to the side of the cab told Draco that the man's name was Alim.

“Hospital,” Draco replied smoothly, and winced when the man froze. “Just a check-in, I'm not ill.”

Alim relaxed, and tugged down the zip of his trousers invitingly, before placing both hands on the wheel again. “Saint Mary's is closest. If you do me good, I'll even give you a lift home after.”

Draco smirked.

“It's what I do best,” he replied smoothly, and lowered his head into the man's lap.

 

With a ride home promised to him, as well as the man generously lending him his fleece jumper to maintain some of his dignity, Draco bounced into the Emergency ward in a much better mood than he'd been in earlier.

“I need a PEP treatment,” Draco said softly to the receptionist as he passed her his NHS card. Her expression soured, and after taking his information, she snappishly told him to sit down as she thrust his card back at him.

Having become quite accustomed to muggles' strange view of homosexuality, he did not react to the nasty reaction, and took a seat. He picked up a discarded magazine, the edges curling and indicative of how old it is. He settled in, and began to read, all the while his mind drifting back to what had happened not a full week before—when Severus Snape had discovered just how low he had truly sunk.

 

_Draco did not often freelance, but with Vic off with one of his more volatile 'employees', Draco was on the street corner, a flask of whisky in his pocket, the occasional sip keeping him warm, and a tiny packet of white powder to keep him smiling._

_He had been bowed forward into the driver's seat of a dingy old Volkswagen, speaking in low tones to the driver._

_“How old are you, darling?” the driver, an elderly chap with sparse grey in his beard asked, while he gazed at Draco with a hungry gaze._

_“How old do you think I am?” Draco purred while he arched a brow at the man, shifting a little to force the shirt he wore to open at the collar, exposing a long line of milky skin, tinged pink from the cold. The man had parted his lips to respond, but at the same moment Draco heard a sudden shout. The man swore and sped off, the frame of the car's window knocking the side of his head, stunning him and stopping Draco from trying to stop his prospective client from leaving, given that it wasn't a policeman who shouted._

_Draco would know that voice_ anywhere, _and Severus Snape was most certainly_ not _a man of the law._

_Draco glared up at him, knowing that his presence did not bode well for him, especially given the shocked look registering upon the older man's face. Severus had never been one to allow others to see his emotions, and it was a true testament to how shocked he was by Draco's profession that he was reacting so strongly._

_“Draco,” he murmured, “what in the seven hells do you think you're doing?”_

_“Trying to work,” Draco replied snidely, “until someone came up and scared away my customer. What the hell does it look like, Severus?”_

_Severus's eyes drunk in Draco's state of dress, and frowned at him, though Draco could not discern whether it was sympathy or disappointment he was seeing in the older man's expression._

_“You sell_ yourself _for a living?” Severus asked, his voice laced with genuine disgust. “Why in the name of Hades would you do such a thing?”_

_“I am pretty, and I look younger than I actually am,” Draco replied, his tone sarcastic despite the truth in the words. “Men love pretty blond boys, Severus.”_

“ _Draco Malfoy, room seven,_ ” a voice from a loudspeaker announced, shaking Draco from his memories. “ _Draco Malfoy, room seven._ ”

He got up and headed for the indicated room, and held his head high as he ignored the accusing stares of the other people in the waiting room. He knew that it was likely obvious what his profession probably was, but he didn't care. Having a few doddering old fools thinking that he was scum for presenting his arse for money was far less painful than being viewed as scum for being forced to follow a crazed tyrant. His mind was still stuck on Severus's reaction to his work—in particular his lack of attempts to get him to _stop_. Draco had chalked this up to shock and his own somewhat defensive and belligerent attitude towards the older man at the time. He was _good_ at what he did; why on earth would he _stop_?

 

The room was empty when Draco stepped inside, and he sat down upon the examination table as he waited, his heels swinging and fingers tapping upon the leather surface impatiently. He knew another bump could calm his fidgeting, but doctors had this nasty habit of refusing to treat someone when they were high. As a result, he settled in to wait impatiently for the doctor to arrive, while his _up_ mood began to crumble around him.

 _I suppose this means I'm leaning towards genuine addiction,_ Draco thought with a shrill, almost hysterical giggle, _and here I thought my life couldn't get any worse._


	2. Punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you to those of you who have given this little fic a chance! ^.^ here is chapter two, hope you enjoy it. Chapter three will be out next week, December 12th.

Chapter Two – Punishment

Harry did not know what he had expected when he begrudgingly agreed to look into Malfoy's implied career as a whore, but he had pictured something more in line with what he knew of the Slytherin git while they'd been in school together. He had envisioned Malfoy in fancy getups, servicing powerful businessmen and government officials, maybe mafia men, at the lowest point.

_Not this; never this._

Harry stood across the street enveloped in his invisibility cloak, and he felt positively sickened by what he saw.

Malfoy was clearly on something, if the way he continually giggled and threw himself at the supposed _client_ was any indicator. The old man made Harry's stomach roil—he looked to be almost seventy, with thinning grey-white hair and an ill-fitting black suit. He could have been someone's grandfather, and Malfoy looked at him like he was some sort of handsome male model. Harry shivered with disgust at the way Malfoy casually wrapped an arm around the man, spoke to him softly, and did not even hesitate when his hand fell to cover the man's groin.

Harry watched as money changed hands between the client and other man standing near to Malfoy—presumably his pimp—before the pair slipped into a dingy old car and sped off.

_Like he was doing no more than paying for a pound of beef at the butcher._

Harry shuddered.

He watched the corner for a few more minutes. Harry observed the pimp push something under the nose of one of the other emaciated pretty-boys before he trolled up and down the block, looking for more customers, before Harry felt as though he couldn't watch anymore, forced himself away.

  
Harry Apparated to a little cottage buried deep in a wooded area. Had he not been looking for it, Harry doubted that he would even have known it was there. It was well-kept, but still maintained a certain air of neglect—save for the back garden, which Harry could see the edge of, even from the front of the house. _Pristine_ did not even begin to cover it, but then Harry would expect no less from the garden of a Potions Master.

Bracing himself for the worst, Harry strolled up the front walkway, and knocked on the door.

A tiny rectangle of wood slid back, and a pair of black eyes appeared through the small opening. They narrowed, but Snape did not say a word as he slammed the hole shut and reluctantly opened the door.

“I've seen him,” Harry said without preamble, and shouldered his way into the cottage.

“Do come in,” Snape replied sarcastically, and Harry glared at him. “I hope you don't expect tea and biscuits, I am not Albus or Minerva, and I don't care about social niceties for people who neglect those in need of protection.”

“ _Protection_!” Harry barked a laugh, and Snape's eyes narrowed. “Yeah, okay then. I honestly don't know what you expect me to do, Snape, they're in exile, and even if I _wanted_ to help Malfoy, he'd never accept my help—not in a million years.”

“This is not about what Draco's ridiculous pride allows him or not,” Snape growled, “it is about saving his _soul_. He is drowning, and he needs someone to drag him back to the surface. I cannot get through to him, and—”

“—so you think _I_ can?” Harry interrupted, “are you mad? Malfoy would want my help even less than yours. He hates me, remember?”

“You might shock him out of his vices,” Snape said firmly, “he had no one when he was shunted to the muggle world. He had to learn about the world as though he were a child on his own. All the while, you were showered with _praise_ and _awards of valour_ that you do not deserve. You have carried around a Hero's Complex in that thick skull of yours since the age of eleven. Use it, and save someone who genuinely _needs_ saving. Or is that not something Famous Harry Potter bothers with anymore?”

“He spent our Hogwarts years tormenting me and my friends!” Harry yelled, so suddenly that Snape took a small step back in surprise. “One or two small acts of kindness does not make up for a lifetime of wickedness. If you want to save him so bad, _you_ do it.”

“Draco Malfoy saved your _life_ , you selfish, ungrateful, nasty little boy,” Snape snarled, “you would not be standing here now, so full of righteous indignation had he not been unwilling to identify you at the Malfoy Manor that night. You are _lucky_ that he has some capacity to care, some awareness that you were needed to defeat the Dark Lord, and despite all evidence to the contrary, he was not, and has never been a killer. You _know_ that. I have to wonder now where this ridiculous attitude of yours is even coming from. I have a theory, and I do believe I am right—it is hardly Legilimency that enables me to see it, it is written quite plainly all over your face. You feel _guilty_.”

“I do _not_ feel guilty!” Harry protested, his face flushing a deep red as he spoke. He could feel his shame at the truth in Snape's accusation bubbling just below the surface of his mind, but for some unbeknownst reason, he couldn't quite grab hold of it and own it. His mind pushed it away as he refused to acknowledge it's presence. “I'm an Auror now, Snape. Saving people is what I _do_.”

“Then _prove_ it!” Snape retorted fiercely, his vicious tone so sharp that it made Harry jump. “Save someone who needs saving, for once. He cannot help himself, and you _must_ get through to him.”

Without another word, Snape offered him one last glare before he spun in a flurry of black robes, grabbed Harry's shoulder, and marched him from his home.

“Get out of here and _fix_ your mess, Mr Potter.”

The door slammed in Harry's face, and he was left on Snape's doorstep, his mind reeling in the wake of whatever had just happened.

Harry stepped down from the front step, and inched reluctantly down the path and towards the dirt road.

  
_What was he going to do about Draco Malfoy?_

Harry could not deny that seeing his former rival like that had been a shock. Starry-eyed and half out of his mind, even the memory of how the blond had looked was enough to make him feel ill.

Harry knew that he needed a second opinion, but _who_?

Asking Ron was completely out of the question. He'd believe Malfoy had it coming (which Harry felt inclined to agree with, at least a little) and likely would take great pleasure in spreading the news far and wide— _Draco Malfoy was a whore._

Harry shuddered. He couldn't do that to Malfoy. It would only make things worse when the news got back to him, and if Malfoy wound up killing himself, that would be on his head.

Asking Hermione seemed safer. She was less likely to latch on to the belief that Malfoy had it coming, but telling anyone at all still felt like a betrayal.

What was he supposed to _do_?

Coming to no conclusions, Harry decided that he needed to let off some steam before he went home to his empty flat—empty, that is, save for his owl, Sisyphus, and his snake, Belvedere.

Which was a completely ridiculous name for a royal python, but the python himself had insisted that that was his name, and there would be no swaying the ridiculous creature.

  
Harry Apparated to a dingy alleyway in the West End, far and away from the glamorous concert halls and lavish night clubs, and he found himself next to SuperSex, his preferred muggle Gentleman's Club for when he wished to disconnect from his life in the wizarding world, at least for a little while.

“Scotch and soda,” Harry said as he sat down at the bar. The place was about as clean as the Hog's Head was, although Harry was less worried in this place about bringing his own glasses—at least the muggle Health and Safety department stopped him from getting Hepatitis from a glass.

Harry turned to the stage while he waited for his drink to be prepared, where a young man was dancing in next to nothing. The shiny material of his gold speedo glinted off the white light that flooded the stage as he swung around the pole, his wide, alluring smile never fading from his lips as he moved. Bank notes by the dozens poked out of the ridiculous garment he wore, and still those nearest to the stage were still finding spots to cram in more tips. Harry watched with amusement as those few dirty old men who tried for more than just leaving a tip were promptly shown the exit.

That, more than anything else, was what Harry liked about SuperSex. It was degrading, filthy, exhibitionist, but they still never allowed anyone to touch their dancers, which Harry could appreciate—along with the young men themselves.

After the song faded into silence, Harry recalled that he'd ordered a drink, and snatched it up off the bar. He surreptitiously flicked his wand at the glass to ensure that it had not been tampered with when he wasn't looking, and sipped the drink as a voice over a loudspeaker filled the silence.

“ _Big round of applause for Prince Charming, gentlemen and gentlemen! Now, get your hands out of your trousers and put them together for our next dancer...Bad Faith!_ ”

A darker, heavier music poured from the speakers hidden in the ceiling, what Harry recognized as a club version of some _Rob Zombie_ song, and the lights illuminated the stage again. A blond man stood there with his back to the audience. He was dressed in leather from head to toe, and a lewd cheer sounded from the audience. Clearly, he was a favourite.

“ _Who is this irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for the dead?_ ” the song asked, and as the music began the dancer turned around, a sultry smirk upon his face. The long fingers of his left hand closed around the pole while his deadened, silver eyes outlined with black surveyed his audience, and Harry nearly dropped his drink as he was slammed with a wave of instant recognition.

_Malfoy_.

~*~

There were many things that Draco hated about his new life, but it all faded to the background when he took to the stage.

The cheers were for _him_ , the music flooded through his body, and as he shed the leather jacket and tossed it aside, the cheers amplified.

_I am strong, I am beautiful, and they are here to see_ me, Draco thought as another wave of joy rushed through him.

Draco's bare chest glinted with a mixture of perspiration an glitter gel, and he caught the side of his bottom lip between his teeth as he gazed down at the men congregated around the edges of the stage, all of them watching him with looks of longing. His fingers closed around them hem of his leather trousers, and he was gifted with another wave of cheers.

_They all want me, but here, none of them can have me. I am walking sex._

Another burst of pride, like fireworks, seemed to explode inside his chest as he tugged on the garment, designed specifically to tear away, leaving him in nothing but his boots and a tight black speedo.

Cheers flooded him again like the most powerful drug on the planet, and he felt so high, it was almost certain that he'd never come down. Draco threw his head back as he danced, the heavy, thumping music compelling his body to move like sex on stage. Everything was liquid, and he was on fire.

Hands were at his groin, stuffing in rough bank notes that tickled his skin unpleasantly, but left the promise of food for his family, and the ability to pay their utilities. He didn't dare look down to see if there was anything larger than a fiver in the mix; the spell—so to speak—would break. Draco nearly laughed at the irony of the internal statement.

As the song wound to a close, Draco offered his supporters a smile, and accepted tips as more notes were stuffed into his waistband—and a few curled up pieces of paper that were likely phone numbers. Draco almost laughed—as if he could afford something as luxurious as a _phone_.

Draco lifted his head to survey the rest of the dingy club, perhaps for a patron farther back that he could chat up later and talk in to offering him a belated tip, when his eyes fell upon a solitary man at the bar, and he felt himself go pale.

  
As elegantly as he could, he stepped off stage before he abandoned his calm demeanour ran to the back rooms.

Shaking, Draco gathered up his tips, too much in a hurry to stop and count it, and crammed the lot into his battered leather wallet. He rushed into his street clothes, pulled the hood of his old jumper up over his head, concealing his identity as he hurried out the back door, and heaved a small but frustrated sigh.

_Potter_.

After all this time, it had to be Potter who discovered what trade Draco had taken up in the muggle life that Potter himself had forced onto him.

Draco reached into his jeans pocket and withdrew a crushed packet of fags. He perched one between his lips and lit it after flicking his lighter three times, his hands trembling too badly to properly let it catch.

Draco inhaled, and the tobacco helped to soothe him as it filled his lungs, though certainly did not aid him in numbing himself to the anguished mood that overwhelmed him as he came crashing down from his high. Everything felt too heavy, and for a moment he felt the strangest compulsion to simply lie down in the alley and pray that he died in his sleep.

The white powder in his pocket almost seemed to be burning a hole in the fabric, but he did not dare use it. He needed it for his performances, and when he saw his customers. To squander it at any other time was bad thinking. He hadn't been properly happy in years, and this heavy weight of depression wasn't exactly anything new.

_I'll just ask Lexie if he's got any Prozac or something, that should keep Mother from worrying too much about me, and it's not as expensive as the other stuff he's got, and I don't want any Tina again, not after last time..._

“Er...Malfoy?”

Draco jumped. He had been so lost in thought that he hadn't heard anyone approach, and he leapt back when he saw Potter. He was too close, and the look of shock and sympathy that he saw in the other man's eyes made Draco want to be sick.

“What the hell do _you_ want?” he snarled, and Potter flinched at his tone. _Good_ , Draco thought, _he deserves to feel bad for what he did to us—to me._

“I just...” Potter trailed off, and grimaced. “I wanted to see if you were all right, I wasn't expecting...I've never seen you here before.”

“If you're fishing for any _favours_ , go bother someone else,” Draco growled at him, and Potter winced again. “I don't fuck clients from here.”

“That's not why I'm here,” Potter said as he took a tentative step forward, and Draco immediately moved back. “I was...fuck, I don't know what I'm doing. I came here to unwind, and I didn't expect to see you here. I was under the impression that hanging about on street corners was more your thing.”

_So he knows_.

Draco felt his face burn with shame, and Potter jumped back from him like a spooked cat from a large dog.

“Who told you?” he asked hollowly. He tried to lift his chin at Potter in defiance, but couldn't quite manage it. His former school rival knew that he was a whore and a stripper. Weasley must have been over the _moon_ when Potter told him.

“Snape,” Potter replied awkwardly. “He came to my office and about bit my head off over it.”

“Fucking _hell_...” Draco snarled. “I even told that git that I'd pay for his silence with my arse, but no he has to have all these ridiculous morals...” he trailed off and shook his head. “Whatever he said, ignore him. I'm fine, he doesn't need to keep minding me like I'm some idiot child.”

“But, Malfoy, you're not fine!” Potter protested hotly, “you're skin and bone, you're white as a ghost! When was the last time you even slept?”

“ _Merlin save me from stubborn fucking Gryffindors_...Potter, _let it go_. I'm _fine_. I look fine, I feel fine. You really want to start blaming people for my life, look in the _mirror_. Good day.”

Draco shouldered past him, and shivered when he felt the thick muscle hidden beneath the baggy clothing that Potter wore. By comparison, Draco really _was_ skin and bone.

With his eyes narrowed into a glare that he fixed on the pavement, Draco thanked his lucky stars that Potter decided to not follow him like an annoying, holier-than-thou duckling. Instead, he allowed Draco to shuffle home in peace, for which he was grateful—he didn't need Potter to protest how he and his parents lived on top of everything else.

Around him, the shops slowly gave way to connected housing, and he stopped at the chemist to pick up his father's medicine. He managed to smile at the cashier, and she seemed to be politely flustered at the gesture. It did what Draco had hoped however, and they doubled up his father's medications at no cost.

_At least my Slytherin manipulation techniques still have some use..._ Draco thought with a bitter smile as he tucked the paper bag inside his jumper as he left the shop and continued on for home, the buildings around him getting shabbier and shabbier the longer he walked, and the people more and more questionable. He saw drug dealers and pregnant teenagers milling about the streets; he saw girls and boys jabbing heroin into their veins in dirty alleyways; he saw money and tiny bags trading hands, and he tried to keep his eyes to himself as he walked. The prices out here were ridiculous, five hundred quid would get him the same amount as a suck and fuck from his usual dealer. His arse was, as far as Draco was concerned, worth its weight in gold.

“Hey, sweet thing, remember me?”

The sudden voice drew Draco out of his cloud of thoughts, and he looked around to find an older man approaching him, his face painted with an unsettling, leery smile.

“Should I?” Draco asked mildly as he arched a brow at the older man, who only stopped when he was well within Draco's personal space. He pressed his palm to the wall above Draco's left shoulder and leant in until he was mere inches from Draco's face. Unwilling to appear unnerved by the man's actions, he did not move, but stared resolutely back.

“I took you home a few weeks ago,” the man said, “best shag of my life; you let me choke you.”

“I must have been _very_ desperate,” Draco replied dryly, and the man's expression immediately soured. “Excuse me, but I have places to be.”

Draco shouldered past the man without looking back.

“ _Fucking whore, I_ paid _for you!_ ”

He ignored the insult, and kept walking.

Draco at last stopped before an old cement building that reminded him more of Azkaban than anything else. There were burglar bars on the lower windows, and the interior was illuminated by weak yellow bulbs that washed everything in sickly light.

He unlocked the glass door and let himself in, and hardly noticed the pungent, unpleasant aroma on the air, the musty odour of old cat urine and stale cigarettes. When they'd first moved here it nearly made him gag, but now he hardly noticed it.

Draco wound his way up to the third floor, and jiggled the lock to ensure that the door would open. It took a few tries, but he knew his mother would not come to the door—not again. The attack on his father had been enough to frighten her from such a small task as that. Draco knew that she would wait and see if it was truly Draco, or an intruder.

On the third shake of the lock he got the door to open, and he stepped into the tiny flat. It was barely large enough for one person, and cramming three adults into the space still made Draco think of sardines in a tin.

It was one large space, barely three hundred square feet, with three narrow cots and one small wardrobe jammed at one end, with a patchwork sofa, ancient rocking chair, and rickety coffee table at the other. A stack of old, musty, second-hand books were stacked on the table, and right next to their makeshift sitting room was the kitchen—a kitchenette of two burners set into the counter in place of a real stove, a sink, a little over one square foot of counter space, and a narrow refrigerator. The bathroom attached itself to the kitchen, and was just as tiny and dingy as the rest of the space.

His mother, dressed in dark slacks and a fitted jumper—which was still strange to see, regardless of how much time had passed—was seated at one end of the sofa, a book in her hands. His father was in the rocking chair, eyes glazed and watery as he stared ahead at nothing, and only the occasional head or leg twitch told them that he was still alive at all, trapped inside his broken mind. His mother had been reading to him again, but broke off when Draco had stepped inside. She set the book down, and offered her son a warm smile.

“Welcome home, Draco,” she said, “how was your day?”

“Successful enough,” Draco replied as he pulled his wallet out and tossed it onto the coffee table. “My tips for the day, I haven't had a chance to count them yet. “I'll go out to the market after I shower, just make me a list of what we need. How is Father?”

“No real change,” his mother replied sadly. “I am reading him the ones you got for us from that used bookstore...he doesn't seem to like the Hemingway. I was reading him some of the Eliot poetry.”

“How did he react to the Hemingway?” Draco asked delicately as he sat down on the arm of the sofa. His father continued to stare into space, completely ignorant to the fact that Draco and Narcissa were talking about him at all.

“He had a full-on anxiety attack,” she replied sadly, and glanced towards her husband with tears in her eyes. “He got up out of his chair, lay down on the floor, calm as you like, as though he intended to have a lie-down, and then he began to scream.”

Draco shivered.

“I assume you gave him something?” he asked, and she nodded.

“I got his Ativan into him, and it's been keeping him calm. I've no idea if he even hears me anymore, but...sometimes I think he's still in there...somewhere.”

Draco stood up, and crouched before his father. He was staring off blankly into space, and seemed to be muttering softly under his breath, though he could not catch the words.

“Father?” Draco asked nervously. “Father, can you hear me?”

No response.

Doing his best to swallow his disappointment, he straightened up, paused to offer his mother's hand a squeeze, and headed for the bathroom for a wash.

Draco locked the door, and shed his clothing. The bathroom was icy cold, and as he looked down at himself, he felt mildly sickened.

He was not bad-looking. Even after putting his body through so much abuse, it had yet to show too explicitly on his skin. He was slender and pale, and the glitter gel was peeling crudely off his skin like sparkling skin tags. He hadn't had time for a wash between his last client of the day and his shift at the club, and he could feel that his skin tacky with old sweat and dried cum.

Forcing his eyes away from his reflection, he set the timer and turned on the hot water.

Draco wasted no time, and hastily scrubbed at his skin and hair, counting under his breath as he went, ensuring that he'd have time to wash his entire body before the timer went off. They couldn't afford for anything longer than a ten-minute hot shower.

The timer buzzed the same moment Draco stepped out of the shower, and he grabbed his towel off the rack—the shabbiest of the three towels that they owned, but that was by choice. He was determined to give his parents some level of comfort, as much as he could, at least, and to offer them the nicer of their three towels was one small sacrifice he was more than willing to make.

Draco towelled himself off roughly, and tugged his clothes back on. When he stepped back out, he saw that his mother had laid out his tips in an assortment of neat piles, and was composing a list for him.

“Nearly seven-hundred pounds, Draco,” she announced, “and three phone numbers. Perhaps if your father ever feels up to it, we could visit you at work.” She offered him a warm, encouraging smile. “I imagine you must be an excellent waiter, if you accumulate tips like these.”

“Perhaps one day,” Draco agreed with a faint smile, and swallowed his bitter laughter behind a blank mask. _Wouldn't that be something. I think Mother would die of shame if she ever learnt what my true profession was_. “Have you finished the list?” he asked, and she nodded as she plucked out a few bills from one of the piles she'd formed. She held out the bank notes as well as a single sheet of paper to him.

“Get what you can, do not worry if you can't pick up everything on the list,” she said, and he accepted the items with a small nod.

“I won't be long,” Draco promised as he tucked away the bills into the side of his boot, and pocketed the list. He grabbed his keys, and made for the door again.

“Be safe, son,” Narcissa called, and Draco turned to offer her a small, reassuring smile.

“I always am.”

Without another word he slipped out the door, and was gone.

 


	3. Beautiful Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be Tuesday, December 19th.

Chapter Three – Beautiful Boy

Harry paced in his office, his hands folded at his back. A stack of file folders and a cup of cold tea sat ignored on his desk, his mind still stuck on what he had seen yesterday.

At a distance, Malfoy had looked lovely—which was a strange and uncomfortable thought to behold.

Up close however, it was completely different story.

Malfoy seemed to be a step away from the very kind of street urchin he would have sneered at in his youth. He was rake-thin, and he reeked. He smelt of sex, and booze, and cigarettes, and God knows what else. It was enough to nearly make Harry weep for him. The worst part, at least to Harry, was how little Malfoy seemed to care about how he looked to others. He seemed completely ignorant to how far gone he was.

_I have to help him._

Harry wished he knew _how_.

A sudden soft tapping on his office door drew Harry from his thoughts, and he glanced up as he called, “come in!” and Hermione peeked inside.

“Harry?” she prompted as she stepped inside. “I got this really cryptic memo from you telling me to come up here alone, without Ron. Is everything all right?”

“I don't know,” Harry replied at once, and raked a hand through his hair. “I...I need some help, and I didn't know who to ask...can we leave the office? I want to make absolutely sure that I'm not overheard.”

“Okay, now you're making me nervous...” she said with a laugh, but when Harry did not share it with her, her smile fell, and she regarded him oddly. “Are you all right, Harry? You're acting as though somebody's _died_.”

“Not here,” Harry replied as he shook his head, took her by the arm, and led her towards his personal fireplace. “Meet me at the Leaky, yeah?” she nodded immediately, and without another word, Harry grabbed a handful of glittering powder off the mantelpiece and tossed it into the grate.

Harry did not speak until the pair of them had tumbled into the Leaky Cauldron's pub, and were ushered away into a private room. As an extra precaution, Harry set up a number of privacy wards around them before he finally turned back to her.

“Harry, what is this all about?” she demanded, her eyes a little wide. “You're acting like you're preparing to tell me some sort of great government secret or something.”

“It's nothing like that,” Harry replied with a quick shake of his head, “but it's just as sensitive, so I need you to _swear_ that you won't tell anyone about this—not even Ron.”

“Harry—”

“— _swear_ ,” Harry repeated, and Hermione's shoulders sagged a little.

“All right, yes, I swear. I won't tell Ron,” she said, though she did not look at all happy about it.

Harry inclined his head once, trusting that she would keep to her word. As a precaution, he flicked his wand under the table, casting an undetectable tongue-tying jinx. He did not wish to accidentally betray Malfoy any further by not taking appropriate precaution.

“All right.” Harry nodded. “So, last week Snape visited me in my office.”

“ _Snape_?” Hermione asked, her voice shifting from frustrated and resigned to curious. “Why on earth?”

“ _Malfoy_ ,” Harry replied, and wrinkled his nose. “He was really angry with me about my part in the Malfoys' sentence following the war. It took him a little time to get to the point, but he was angry at me because they're apparently destitute, and Malfoy is working as a hooker to make ends meet.

“Anyway, Snape seemed pretty sincere, but I just assumed Malfoy was one of those high-end call boys or something. I looked into it, and it was pretty disgusting. I saw Malfoy out of his mind on some sort of drug, hanging off some dirty old man like he was an Adonis, or something.”

“Oh...” Hermione brought her hands to her mouth, her eyes a little wide and shiny. The look he saw in her eyes was a familiar one—like she could not decide how to react. He could understand that.

“I didn't know what to think, so after talking with Snape again—which wasn't really all that productive, to tell the truth—I..er...” Harry felt his cheeks darken, “I visited a... _gentleman's club_.”

“Good for you, Harry, but why are you telling me _that_?” Hermione asked, a note of disapproval in her voice. For the moment, Harry ignored it; she could lecture him later.

“Well, I just went there to unwind, I don't go to places like that often, but after my argument with Snape, I sort of needed a place that was...away,” Harry explained awkwardly, his gaze focused on his knees. “But then...I saw Malfoy again. _On stage_.”

“Oh... _oh_ ,” her eyes widened with understanding. “He is an erotic dancer, too?”

“I suppose,” Harry shrugged. “After one song he spotted me and bolted, and I went after him to talk to him, and...Hermione, he looked so bad.”

“How bad?”

“ _Bad_.” The memory of Malfoy flooded into Harry's mind, and he shivered. “I think he might be an addict of some kind, he was just a mess.” Harry paused, and looked back up to Hermione. “I don't know what I should do. He basically told me to sod off, but this is partially my fault. If I'd tried to help them more during their trials, none of this would have happened. I just...I don't know what I can do to help him. I think he thinks I looked for him to laugh at how low he's sunk, I don't know if he'd even _accept_ my help.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione said softly, her eyes shining, “I understand why you wouldn't want Ron to know. He's a good man, but he does have his mean streak.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, “I wouldn't put it past him to go find Malfoy and give him a hard time about it. I don't want to make things worse. What do you think I should do?”

“I honestly don't know, Harry,” Hermione said gently, “there's not a whole lot I think you _can_ do. With them being in exile in a place they know so little about, it's not all that surprising that Malfoy would turn to sex work. But the addict part...do you know what he's taking?”

“No clue,” Harry replied as he shook his head, “he just looked...wired, I guess. Really hyper. But that was only when he was on his street corner, after the club I think he might have been sober-ish, but I'm not sure.”

“Hmm...” Hermione brushed her chin with her fingertips, “maybe some sort of upper, then...”

“Upper?”

“Speed, amphetamines, cocaine...that sort of thing,” she explained, “it's like an extreme sugar rush, in a way. It makes you feel really self-confident and the happiest you've ever been. If that's what Malfoy's taking, it will be torture to clean himself up again. I've heard of it taking more than ten years for some people to get clean.”

“Please tell me you know all this from reading about it, Hermione,” Harry said seriously, and she cracked a small smile.

“Yes,” she replied with a small laugh. “I wanted to compare muggle drug use to the wizarding equivalents, and so I was doing research on all sorts of things like that. It was fascinating.” Her voice had taken on an airy, dreamlike quality, the kind it usually did when she began to talk about reading or studying, and Harry cleared his throat pointedly. She shook her head once, a faint flush of colour creeping up her cheeks, and she returned to the topic at hand.

“I think the thing that I've read most often was beyond Malfoy _needing_ to change his habits, he has to _want_ to change. Until he does, none of the treatments are very helpful. Coming off uppers, you don't really get physical reactions, it's all emotional. He'll be really depressed, and might make things worse by supplementing with something else. It's a really vicious cycle.”

“And I did this to him, because I didn't care enough to try and help him more...” Harry mumbled as he cradled his head in his hands. Hermione smiled at him sadly, and reached across the table. She closed her hand over one of Harry's and gave the limb a small squeeze.

“Don't feel too badly, Harry,” she said consolingly, “don't forget that his trial was at the same time as Snape's, and you were much more focused on making sure Snape had a fair trial, because you knew that the Wizengamot was likely to penalize him more.”

“That still doesn't make it right, Hermione,” Harry replied, his mouth twitching into a frown. “Because of me, Malfoy has pretty much destroyed himself, and he's doing it for his family...”

“Can his parents not work?” Hermione asked, her head cocking to the side curiously as she eyed Harry. “I suppose they're not used to working proper jobs, what with their background...”

“According to Snape, Lucius was attacked by some Anti-Death Eater people a few years ago, and Narcissa stays home to take care of him,” Harry replied monotonously, and Hermione's eyes widened. “I remember reading a report about it, but I don't know all the details.” Harry squirmed uncomfortably in his seat as the lie tumbled past his lips, but strangely, detailing Lucius's condition to Hermione almost felt like a betrayal, and as a result, he felt compelled to be silent about it.

“Oh.” Hermione's face flushed pink with embarrassment. “I suppose they really...” she shook her head. “No. This is beyond any sort of karmic punishment. Oh, Harry, I wish I knew what to tell you. It's such a complicated situation...”

“It really is,” Harry agreed, and cradled his chin in his hand. Beyond the warding, a rumble of thunder sounded from outside, and no solutions came to him.

~*~

For the first time in a very long time, Draco felt no need to fake his attraction to his customer.

He was still older, certainly, but _handsome_.

The man, Mr Selig Schroeder, he called himself, was a German businessman for some sort of line of sporting equipment. His hair was silver, but he was built like a body builder—tall and strong, and despite his age, barely showed it. For a little while, it was easy to forget his position as a prostitute, and imagine that this man was his secret lover.

Schroeder pushed Draco back onto the bed—a soft feather bed in a beautiful hotel, far and away from the sorts of places he usually found himself—and he let out a tiny moan as the man covered Draco's mouth with his in a hard kiss. His hands were rough, but so strong that Draco felt as though he could break his bones just by squeezing too hard. Draco reached for him to draw him closer, to savour the warmth of the body blanketing his, but Schroeder caught his wrists and pinned them high above his head. Draco whimpered, but did not dare protest.

“Such white skin...” Schroeder whispered as he ran his free hand down Draco's front. “I cannot wait to mark it, yes?”

“Yes,” Draco breathed, and arched his back invitingly. The older man chuckled, and leant forward to nibble at Draco's throat. Draco groaned, and pressed his throat harder against the man's mouth.

“Hmm...so eager...” Schroeder murmured in praise as he swiped his tongue across Draco's skin, “you are so delightful, I am thinking I will want you again, beautiful boy.”

Draco shivered as his wrists were released, and the older man kissed him again. He could not completely explain why, but the pet name of _beautiful boy_ made him want to weep. It had been a long time since someone had called him beautiful.

Schroeder's mouth deviated from Draco's, and nipped its way down the side of his throat and across his collarbone. His big hands dropped down to cradle his arse, and Draco trembled at the unnervingly gentle touch.

“You are not used to gentleness,” Schroeder remarked, and Draco froze. He bit his lip as he gazed up at his companion for the night, and he stared at Draco intensely. Draco could not work out whether the look was negative or positive.

“I...” Draco trailed off, and he felt his face grow warm as he moved to glance away. A hand removed itself from Draco's arse and caught his cheek, forcing his gaze back to the ice-blue eyes of his customer.

“Tell the truth, beautiful boy,” he commanded gently, and Draco was once more overwhelmed with a strange sort of anguish.

“My...the people I service are oftentimes used to serving themselves,” Draco explained, unable to lift his voice above a soft, ashamed whisper. “They don't care if they hurt me.”

“To tarnish your beauty would be a travesty, beautiful boy,” Schroeder replied softly, and pecked Draco's lips in an achingly soft kiss. “I wish for you to enjoy yourself as much as me.”

Draco's breath caught, and he blinked sharply. Schroeder did not bat an eyelash as he reached up to catch Draco's tears.

“Let me take care of you, beautiful boy.”

It was unlike any encounter Draco had ever experienced before.

Schroeder was gentle as a lover. His large body cradled Draco's, and soft terms of endearment and gentle encouragements slipped past his lips as easily as breathing.

_“Yes, beautiful boy, just like that, move with me...”_

_“Oh, sweet thing, just relax, I will not hurt you...”_

_“Beautiful boy, let go, let go...”_

Draco came, and he could not recall the last time he had not had to force it. The spurt of white that painted his abdomen nearly made him weep, and the sight of Schroeder discarding the used condom was nearly his undoing. He _cared_.

“Oh, good boy...” Schroeder purred as he drew Draco close, and ran his hand along his spine. He cradled Draco like a child, and rocked him when the dam finally broke, and he wept.

He let Draco wring himself dry, and when he tried to mutter an apology, two fingers covered his lips, silencing him.

“Do not apologize for being human, beautiful boy,” Schroeder murmured. “I cannot imagine your life, and how strong you must be to live it. Do not apologize, I am not upset. Please, let me hold you a while longer.”

Draco let him.

When it came time for them to part ways,Schroeder insisted on taking him home, and his stammered, embarrassed protests fell on deaf ears.

Draco settled into the passenger seat of the sleek black Porsche, and felt very strange as he directed Schroeder away from the glitz and glamour of London High Society, and to the meagre existence he and his parents had carved out for themselves.

“I wish to see you exclusively while I am here,” Schroeder said as he pulled up around the corner from Draco's building, and laid a hand on his knee. “I will speak to your employer.”

“A-all right,” Draco nodded, and Schroeder smiled warmly. He pressed a wad of bills into Draco's hand, and the young man gaped at what he was seeing.

“Five thousand pounds, for your services,” he said, and chuckled at Draco's completely gobsmacked expression. “Get yourself something nice, beautiful boy.”

He kissed Draco once more, his lips parted in shock at the thick wad of bank notes that still rested in his hand. Part of him wished to protest, it was too much—nearly ten times his usual fee—but the words never made it out of his mouth. This would feed his family for nearly half a year, if he did not squander it. Draco swallowed his objections, and kissed Schroeder back.

“Thank you, sir,” Draco replied, his voice soft, and the man reached out to touch his cheek.

“I shall speak to your employer, and I will be in touch, yes? I would like to take you out clothes shopping; I am afraid that you must have something proper to wear if we are to traverse beyond the bedroom.”

Draco nodded, a few blond strands falling into his eyes. He tried to speak again, still deeply overwhelmed by the intent this man seemed to have on buying him things, not just purchasing _him_ , but his voice was still lost.

“Is something wrong, beautiful boy?” he asked, and Draco bowed his head a little.

“No, I'm sorry for my rudeness, I am just...overwhelmed,” Draco explained. “It has been a long time indeed since anyone has shown me such kindness, and I am afraid I've quite forgotten how to appropriately show my gratitude.”

“Your presence by my side is thanks enough, beautiful boy,” Schroeder murmured, and he kissed Draco again. “I find myself wanting to give you the world. I wish to know you by more than just your impressive bedroom acrobatics.”

Draco felt the colour rise in his cheeks again. What this man was offering him was like a slice of his old life back again, but he dared not trust a hope—it had been his undoing in recent years.

Schroeder touched his cheek again, and offered Draco a warm smile.

“Go on home, beautiful boy, I shall be in touch.”

The car door clicked sharply as it unlocked, and Draco stuffed the money in the side of his boot before he stepped out of the car after thanking Schroeder again. He did nothing beyond offer Draco another soft smile, and with the rumble of the engine, sped off back towards his glamorous life. Draco felt the faintest twinge of jealousy at this, but stomped down hard on it as he hurried around the corner and towards his building, the money in his boot all but burning a hole where it lay—he did _not_ wish to be mugged when he had five thousand pounds in cash on his person.

Draco moved towards his building, but stopped short when he spotted someone familiar in the distance. One of the local dealers, of whom he had only bought off of once or twice, given how expensive her wares usually were.

_Buy yourself something nice, beautiful boy._

Draco slipped into a nearby alleyway, and after ensuring that he was completely alone, he crouched down and tugged a few bills out of his boot.

  
When Draco made it home at last, his pocket jangling softly with his purchases, the first thing he was privy to upon entering the flat was his mother's sweet voice reading some sort of poetry to his father.

_“—Away! Away! for I will fly to thee,_  
_Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,_  
_But on the viewless wings of Poesy,_  
_Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:_  
_Already with thee! tender is the night,_  
_And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,_  
_Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;_  
_But here there is no light,_  
 _Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown_  
_Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways._ ”

She broke off abruptly, and offered Draco a warm smile.

“Welcome home, son,” she said, “if you give me a moment, I will get you a tea.”

“I can do it,” Draco replied as he shook his head. “You finish reading to Father. Would you like one?”

His father began to fidget and whimper like a discontented child, and his mother quickly returned to her reading. In the meantime, Draco filled their dented kettle with water, and set it on the cooker to boil. The moment Narcissa had resumed reading Lucius calmed again, and Draco watched them with a sad sort of smile. He knew better than to hope that they'd find a cure for his father's condition, but it did not stop him from fantasizing about seeing his father well and of sound mind once more.

Draco prepared three cups of tea—two of the regular kind, and the third an herbal blend that his father had come to enjoy, of chamomile, peppermint, lavender, cinnamon, and a number of other herbs and spices, all designed to relax the drinker. As far as muggle herbalism went, Draco had to admit that it was amazingly effective in keeping his father calm without the excessive use of drugs.

_At least one of us doesn't need to be so chemically dependent..._ he thought as he cooled the herbal tea to lukewarm, and then carried the three drinks over to the sofa where his mother still sat. His father had relaxed again, and seemed content enough as his mother shut the book of poems, and accepted the chipped mug from Draco with a small smile.

“You're a good boy, Draco,” his mother said approvingly as he sat down next to her, and he smiled at her weakly. “Did you have a good day at work?”

Draco recalled the thick wad of bank notes in his boot as she posed her question, and shifted uncertainly.

“Draco?” Narcissa asked again, “are you all right?”

“I got a tip from a customer today,” Draco replied nervously, “a...a bit of a large tip.”

Narcissa narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “How large?” she asked, and Draco reached into his boot and tugged out the remaining bills.

“Four thousand pounds,” Draco said, and prayed that his mother, usually so sharp-eyed, did not catch his lie. Thankfully, his mother was caught by the sight of the wad of bank notes in Draco's hand, and did not seem to notice.

“Oh, _Draco_...” she breathed, and took the money from him to count it carefully. “Why would a customer give you this much? What does he want of you?”

“I have a vague inkling,” Draco replied as he pulled his legs up to his chest, “he kept referring to me as _beautiful boy_.”

“Ah, I see,” she nodded, and her expression remained troubled. “I do not wish for you to sell your body for this family,” she continued, her voice firm. “You already spread yourself so thin, working at all hours, I do not wish you to hurt yourself any more.”

“I'd never do that...” Draco replied, the lie easily tumbling off his tongue as it had so many times before. “I do not think it is strictly a sexual engagement he seeks, though...he talked about taking me out... _shopping_. For clothing.”

“Clothing?” she asked, and Draco nodded. She stared for a moment longer at her son, then sipped her tea thoughtfully. “I do recall, before everything happened, of people who garnered some sort of joy out of purchasing _things_ for others. Perhaps this person is the same. But, Draco, do not follow through with his advances out of loyalty to us. Go to him only if you wish to. Do you understand?”

Draco nodded his head, and sipped his tea while his mother scooped up his father's mug and offered it to him while Draco pondered his options. Even if he had more of a choice, Draco knew that he would go to him—Schroeder. His kindness and generosity were tempting, almost as much as the lure of being able to feed his family was. There was _something_ about him. Something that would change how he and his family lived—possibly for the better.

Decision made, Draco offered Narcissa a small smile.

“I understand, Mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Poetry excerpt is the 4th stanza of _Ode to a Nightingale_ by John Keats.


	4. Spiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Due to internet issues, I'll be moving my update days to Sundays. That said, the next update will be Sunday, December 24th, Christmas Eve :) 
> 
> Due to some rude (unpublished, because I don't think that level of douchebaggery deserves a response) anons I've gotten on Tumblr, I just want to reiterate that Drarry is NOT the focus of this story, and it will NOT be the endgame. This is a Snarco story, and though there is Snaco, Snarry, and Drarry bits, do not proceed with this if you are not a fan of Snarco, as you will wind up very disappointed. The goal, as most of you should have garnered from the tags, is a poly relationship. It will not be a one-time threesome, but a triad, or a three-person relationship. I do not see this as a spoiler, given the tags used, and I am now trying to make it as clear as possible to curb any more ridiculous remarks concerning this story. To finish off, more than half of IWSM is already written, and bitchy anons on Tumblr (or anywhere else) will not convince me to change the pairing.

Chapter Four – Spiral

 

Harry felt oddly like he'd been thrown back into his sixth year again. He'd rather forgotten just how time-consuming spying on Malfoy was, or, as the case may be— _finding_ Malfoy.

He'd disappeared from his usual haunts, and Harry was reluctant to question the presumed pimp as to where he'd gone. This was not for some silly reason like a distaste for speaking to someone like that—given his profession, he spoke to all sorts of people, but if the pimp were to relay to Malfoy what he looked like, it wouldn't take Malfoy much to work out just who was asking around about him.

On top of that, Harry had Snape breathing down his neck once more, which was a deeply frustrating experience, given that he was _twenty-four_ , and not his student anymore.

“I don't care if you and your Aurors are hunting down Grindelwald himself, Potter,” Snape snarled after breaking into his office again, “you need to put everything else aside, deal with the consequences of your actions, and _help him._ ”

The whole thing had left Harry well beyond exhausted, and he began to wonder whether putting up Snape-repelling warding on his office was a good idea, or a phenomenally _bad_ one.

 

After a fortnight Harry was no closer to helping Malfoy, or finding him, and he was beginning to wonder whether it was a fruitless task, after all. His perusal of a few muggle newspapers told him that Malfoy was probably not dead, given that he hadn't shown up in any of the obituaries, but that wasn't exactly as reassuring as Harry had hoped that it would be—he wasn't certain whether Narcissa would bother placing it in a muggle paper, or try for _The Daily Prophet_ , of which he did not find any word on Malfoy, either.

For all his efforts, he may as well had been sitting at home and twiddling his thumbs, as far as Snape was concerned.

“Are you an Auror or not?” he snapped when he came back to the Ministry to check in on Harry's progress.

“Of course I am, but finding Malfoy isn't exactly a top priority,” Harry tried to explain, and watched as Snape's scowl deepened as he spoke, but this time, he refused to be intimidated. “No, I mean it. I accept that I need to try and help him, but I have other things beyond following Malfoy around to do—”

“Oh, how silly of me,” Snape interrupted snidely, “one lost soul is _beneath_ you, you haven't _time_ to save people anymore—”

“—would you _stop_ that?” Harry snapped, and he glared at Snape as the older man offered him a scathing look. “You have all the bloody time in the world to search for Malfoy, so why are you badgering _me_ with it?”

“I have to wonder,” Snape replied, his voice dropping its infuriated tone and adopting a silky smooth voice that made Harry shiver involuntarily. “What is it, beyond a childish schoolboy rivalry, that is impeding you from adopting your usual pigheaded, single-minded ways of seeing the world, and helping someone who genuinely needs it, someone who is wholly incapable of helping himself? Do you believe that Draco truly _deserves_ this life, or that you really, truly did all that your could during their trials?”

Harry grit his teeth and did not answer, his expression settling into a glare at the older man. Unwilling to accept this as an answer, Snape took a purposeful step forward, one which Harry mirrored by stepping back. Snape's face twisted into a scowl, and he stepped forward again. Harry, not paying attention where he was going, hissed a curse when his back pressed fast against the panelled wood of his office wall. Snape closed the distance between them and rested his hands against the wall on either side of Harry's head, and bore down on him like a predator to its prey. Harry met Snape's scowl with a glare of his own, and refused to break eye contact with the man. When he did not speak, Snape filled in the blanks, as only Severus Snape could.

“I have a theory, Potter,” Snape purred, his tone low and dangerous, but also oddly sexual, which was nowhere near as unpleasant as it should have been. “I have a theory that this has little to do with some misguided belief that Draco somehow _deserves_ this life that has been forced upon him, but your own meagre attempts at masking your own guilt at your inability to help him.” Snape paused, and bore down on Harry a little more. He could see every line of the older man's face, see how the distinct sallow tint of his skin had diminished since the last time he'd been this close to Snape some years before, and he smelt not of the sour of brine and sickly potions ingredients, but of peppermint and sandalwood. These small details wholly distracted Harry from their discussion, and it took him a moment to find the thread of conversation again, and offer up an answer.

“I was trying to help _you_ , you git,” Harry growled, his eyes narrowing into a glare. “I needed to make an impossible decision—help the Malfoys, or help you. I didn't want you to end up in Azkaban when you're a bona fide hero. The Malfoys escaped Azkaban, Draco made his own choice to become a whore. That's _not_ my fault. He could have done herbalism, or worked as a green grocer, or something, but he chose whoring. That was _his_ choice, not mine.”

“And when does such a thing equate to you not interfering, Potter?” Snape asked, his voice like poisoned silk, and once again, Harry shivered involuntarily. “If Mr Weasley or Miss Granger had turned to such a life, would you not do everything in your power to help them? Why is Draco Malfoy different? Why must he suffer needlessly, and indeed, suffer a great deal more than your precious friends ever will?”

“He lived in the lap of lux—”

“—he was ordered to _murder_ the greatest wizard for a hundred years, and he was threatened with the loss of his own parents if he refused,” Snape interrupted coldly. “He was _alone_. He had _no one_ to turn to. After Albus's death, he was abandoned to the Dark Lord's every whim—he was forced to maim and torture for the Dark Lord, and it was only thanks to my intervention that it did not extend beyond that. It very nearly destroyed him. I do not deny that you and your little friends suffered, but _do not_ presume to know what sort of life Draco was forced to live.”

Snape pushed himself off the wall, and strode towards the door angrily. He paused just before the threshold of the closed door, his fingers curled around the edge of the frame, and he turned back to Harry, who had not moved.

“I should mention,” Snape said casually, his voice dropping its anger as he regarded the young man, and adopted a bland, almost bored tone of voice. “When I discovered Draco living this life, it was when he was slipping into a car with a customer. A fat man with a bushy moustache—and very little neck. Good day, Potter.”

Harry felt all the colour drain from his face. Snape did not wait to watch Harry slide to the floor, his lips parted in shock and disgust.

 

~*~

 

“Oh, yes, beautiful boy, that is very much suiting you,” Schroeder said approvingly as Draco turned in the 360º mirror to admire himself. He was dressed in a fine black suit that cost more than he made in a month, and he could all but feel some semblance of his former self peeking out along the edges once more. His companion stepped up to him, his mouth spread into a warm smile, and he wrapped his arms around Draco's waist from behind. Draco leant back against his strong chest, and smiled at himself in the mirror.

“I must thank you, though I am certain I can show my gratitude once we return to your hotel tonight,” Draco purred, and Schroeder chuckled warmly, and leant in to kiss his cheek.

“You are terribly lovely, and far too good to an old man, beautiful boy,” he said, his arms dropping from Draco's waist to take one of his hands. “Before you thank me, first I must earn your gratitude properly. Come back to the car with me.”

Schroeder tugged on his hand, and Draco followed him willingly to the till, where he paid for Draco's suit with a flourish of his shiny credit card, then led Draco towards the same Porsche that he remembered from his first drive with the older man.

“Where are we going?” Draco asked curiously as Schroeder settled in next to him and withdrew his keys from his pocket. In response, he chuckled warmly and patted Draco's knee.

“You shall see, beautiful boy,” he replied in the same warm tone, “I must culture you, you have all the breeding of an aristocrat, but I am afraid your chosen profession has given you little time to enjoy the finer things in life.”

Without another word Schroder started the engine and drove off, his hand not removing itself from Draco's knee, except when he needed to change gears. Draco smiled indulgently, and eased back into his seat as he watched the street lights and flashing billboards zip by as they headed into the West End.

_You shall see_ turned out to be a showing of _Hamlet_ , a play by a muggle called _William Shakespeare_ , of whom he had never heard before. He seemed to be quite famous, and as a result Draco did not dare mention that he'd never heard of him to his companion, as it seemed the sort of thing someone his age should have heard of, at least in passing.

Draco had not known what to expect, but as Schroeder led him up into the box and they sat down, his hand once more resting upon Draco's knee, he was entranced by the spectacle before him.

The play progressed, and Draco was subject to a gentle commentary by his companion as it went on.

 

“ _This is the first soliloquy of the play..._ ”

“Antic Disposition _, he means to act insane..._ ”

“Brevity is the soul of wit, _very famous line..._ ”

 

Draco had half a mind to inform him that he understood these references, that he was not an imbecile, but he was reluctant to say anything that might offend his companion and thus separate him from his company. Instead, he smiled and nodded, and kept his eyes fixed upon the actors.

“Oh yes,” Schroeder said as the play progressed into the Third Act, “this speech is likely the most famous Shakespearean soliloquies of them all.”

Draco nodded again, smiling faintly, and focused his attention upon the actor portraying Hamlet.

 

“ _To be, or not to be,_ _that is the question:_ _  
_ _Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer  
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,_ _  
_ _Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,  
And by opposing end them?_ _To die, to sleep;  
No more; and by a sleep to say we end  
The heart-ache_ _and the thousand natural shocks  
That flesh is heir to,_ _'tis a consummation  
Devoutly to be wish'd._ _To die, to sleep;_ _  
_ _To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;_  
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come...”

 

Draco was bowed forward in his seat, though he could not recall doing so. The verse rolled off the actor's tongue like water over a cliffside, flowing so smoothly and clearly that Draco caught every word.

A hand brushed his cheek, and it was only then that Draco realized he was weeping.

“Beautiful boy,” Schroeder whispered, “why are you crying?”

Draco shook his head, sniffling softly, but when he tried to turn away Schroeder caught his jaw and forced Draco to look at him.

“What is it that upsets you so?” he asked softly, with concern in his voice. Draco shivered immediately, and stared down at his knees. Beyond his mother, he could not recall the last time anyone had shown concern for him in any capacity.

“I can...I can _hear_ myself in his words. It's...I had not expected to find solace in theatre such as this,” Draco explained awkwardly, and grimaced at the burning shame and embarrassment that seemed to have settled in his chest, and he found himself wholly incapable of looking up at his companion.

The hand at his cheek trailed to his chin, and cupped it gently as he urged Draco's eyes up. When he met the gaze of the older man, he felt strangely exposed, like someone had suddenly shone a spotlight upon him.

Warm lips caressed his own, and Draco happily fell into the kiss while a stray thought passed through the back of his mind that could be either a blessing, or a curse—

 

_I could easily fall in love with this man._

 

Draco was markedly grateful that they were in one of the boxes, and therefore viewed as the more important attendees of the play, and given more time to leave the theatre at the end. The courtesy was what Draco needed to pull himself together after the closing scene of the play, and Schroeder did not admonish him for his tears, but on the contrary offered him a tissue for him to mop his eyes, and rubbed his back while he waited for Draco to pull himself together. Of course, Draco had not expected the play to end particularly well, given that Schroeder had referred to it as a _tragedy_ , but he was ill-prepared for how strongly he would react to the final scene nonetheless.

“Come, my sweet prince,” Schroeder said with a light kiss to his temple and a hand about his shoulders when Draco was calm enough to show his face in the lobby of the theatre. “Some food, I think, before we retire.”

 

Draco had assumed that Schroeder would simply drag him back to the hotel and order room service. This was what many of his clients did when they spoke of sharing food with Draco, but as before, Schroeder turned out to go beyond his expectations and took him _out_ to eat.

The restaurant felt like something out of his past. It was high-end, a place where you could not get inside out of formal wear, and upon seeing Schroeder, they were immediately escorted to a private room at the back. Clearly, Schroeder was a man of great important.

“This is nice,” Draco remarked with a small, approving smile as they moved towards the small, round table set up for them. “This is _very_ nice.”

“Only the best for my beautiful boy,” Schroeder replied affectionately as the waiter stepped into their space, and offered them each a welcoming smile.

The pair were provided with a rich, full-bodied red wine that made Draco feel warm and content, and an appetizer spread of fresh bread, brie, and raspberry preserves.

Draco nearly wept with every bite. It had been _years_ since he'd eaten food like this, and he used to _love_ good French brie.

The brie was followed by roasted pigeon— _real_ pigeon, and not chicken—and grilled ox heart with a bone marrow sauce. It was more rich fare than he'd eaten in a very long time, and like with the appetizers, Draco needed to curb the urge to weep with joy as he ate.

Over dessert, a shared portion of trifle with frozen whipped cream and golden meringue, styled less like the trifle he had known, and more like a tiny soufflé. Schroeder pulled a tiny bottle from his suit jacket pocket, and shook two large gelatin capsules into his hand, filled with some sort of muddy brown substance. Draco cocked his head to the side, but thought it more polite to not ask, but Schroeder seemed to have spotted his curiosity anyway.

“Ah, when one ages, one needs certain medications. I am not gravely ill, beautiful boy, do not worry.”

He popped the pills into his mouth without another word, and chased them down with a sip of his after-dinner coffee.

 

As the dinner wound down, Draco wished he could bring some of the delicacies he'd tasted home to his mother, but he knew better than to ask. It seemed in bad taste to ask for a _doggie bag_ at such a place, and instead he excused himself to the toilet to freshen up for the latter half of their evening together.

Draco took care of business, washed and dried his hands thoroughly, then on the back of the toilet, with careful hands he rested down the Oyster Card from his wallet, and pulled the eight ball from his pocket. He tipped a tiny measured amount of powder onto the card, and used his debit card to arrange it into two narrow lines. He did not need a lot—just a little pick-me-up. Draco licked the edge of the card before he stowed it away again, and with a curled up fiver, he snorted the powder.

Like lights flicking on in his brain he jumped up, but paused long enough to stash away his cards along with the fiver, and checked his appearance in the mirror.

 

_I look amazing—I_ feel _amazing._

 

It was hard to believe the incredible turn his life had suddenly taken, and it was all thanks to a rich muggle named Selig Schroeder.

Draco very nearly bounced back to where Schroeder was waiting in the entryway, and blinked when he saw a paper bag in his hand, with the restaurant's name stamped on the side.

“What's that?” Draco asked, his head cocking to the side. When he got close enough to peer into it, he saw several wrapped blocks of brie, two loaves of bread, more fruit preserve, and two bottles of wine. One last unmarked wrapped package gave off a rich aroma of roasted meat, telling Draco that it was more roasted pigeon.

“For you,” Schroeder said as he wrapped an arm around Draco's waist and kissed his cheek. “I am thinking my beautiful boy would want some richness to take home with him—perhaps for mama and papa.”

“You really are too good for me,” Draco said teasingly, and he got on his toes to kiss the older man on the mouth. “Thank you, _daddy_.”

Schroeder chortled, and wrapped his free arm around Draco's waist to draw out the kiss a little. Draco could feel how the word _daddy_ had excited him, and he laughed as Schroeder was quick to turn Draco around and lead him hurriedly towards the doors.

 

Schroeder's hands seemed to shake as he took to the wheel and drove back to the hotel. He nearly threw the keys of the vehicle at the valet, and Draco trilled his giggles as he was transported up to the sixth floor, where his clothes were tugged off so rapidly that it nearly made him dizzy.

“Oh, beautiful boy,” Schroeder groaned between kisses, gyrating his hips as he ground his erection down against Draco's. “Please, call me that again.”

“ _Daddy_ ,” Draco moaned, and the older man buried his face in the crook of Draco's throat, tasting his fair flesh with tongue and teeth.

Schroeder took him as gently as a lover, they repeating their terms of endearment for each other with every other breath, and their mouths locked together in a heated kiss.

Draco came down from his high at the same moment that he orgasmed, which he found strangely disorienting. How was it possible to feel such a crushing anguish and satiation at the same time? Schroeder did not seem to be the type to condone drug use, and Draco was hesitant to make a grab for his trousers to tug out his eight ball for another hit with him around, and thus decided to try and ride out the low until they parted.

“Oh, beautiful boy,” Schroeder murmured as he kissed the side of Draco's throat, “you are so lovely, I wish I did not have to let you go.”

“I'm still here,” Draco replied as he lifted a hand to touch the older man's cheek, and kissed him gently. “I'm not leaving.”

“Ah, but you wish to go back to mama and papa tonight, yes?” Schroeder asked before he returned the kiss, “I will miss you, beautiful boy.”

Draco opened and closed his mouth several times, uncertain what he should say. It was true, he did not like to leave his mother alone all night, but what if saying so upset Schroeder? He shivered inwardly at the idea of him sending Draco away.

A hand fell to his hair, and threaded through the fine strands. Draco leant into the touch with a tiny sigh, while the arm around his waist tugged him closer, pulling Draco flush against the older man's bare chest.

“I would not part you from them, my beautiful boy,” Schroeder whispered, and kissed the top of his head.

 

It was nearing eleven o'clock when Draco got home that night.

He murmured a soft thank-you to Schroeder around the corner from his flat's building, and after one last kiss, he accepted the bag of food from him, a thick wad of bank notes for his time, and Draco reluctantly backed from the car. 

Draco moved away from Schroeder and the illusion of his new life back amongst Britain's rich and powerful, and returned to the reality of his life. He circled away from the vehicle and over to his street, where he heard the soft crunch of gravel under a person's boot, and whipped around to see the man who had approached him over a fortnight before.

“Can I help you?” Draco asked dryly, while he cast a glance towards the door of his building. It was very close, and he was fairly certain that if he needed to, he could run for it.

“Who was that?” the man demanded, his face contorted with anger as he spoke, “who was that _man_ I saw you with just now?”

“Why do you care?”

“You're _mine_ , you filthy whore,” the man snarled, “I _had_ you. What are you doing with other men?”

“You think one shag from _you_ automatically makes me your property?” Draco asked with a similar nasty tone to his voice, “I was yours, bought and paid for, for _one_ night. One _forgettable_ night. Get out of here and find someone else to harass. Good evening.”

Without another word, Draco turned and strode towards his building. He could feel that the man had not moved, but he did not look back.

Draco's mother was still awake when he finally got in, working on embroidering a throw pillow by the weak light of a night lamp, and a pair of wire reading glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose. His father was deeply asleep upon one of the cots, a number of pill bottles scattered upon the night table next to him, and tucked in as carefully as a young child.

“I'm sorry I'm so late, Mother,” Draco whispered when he got close, and smiled weakly at the embroidery in her hands—a Swedish Short-Snout dragon on a pillow of pale blue faux silk. It was one of the few crafts his mother had done prior to their exile, and it was heartening to see her taking it up again.

“It's quite all right, Draco,” she replied softly, and followed his gaze to the dragon. She let out a small sigh. “Stationary embroidery never looks right to me. I've tried to use wandless magic to make it move, but I am afraid I haven't the strength for it.”

“It's still lovely, Mother,” Draco replied as he sat down, and held out the paper bag to her. “Gifts from my... _friend_.”

Her brow knitted with curiosity, she bowed forward to peer into the bag, and gasped sharply. She reached in for one of the bottles of wine, and gazed at it like one might stare at a gold ingot.

“He also paid me for my time tonight...five thousand pounds,” Draco filled in in the same soft tone. “If this keeps up, we'll be able to get a proper flat, something a bit nicer.”

“Do not trust a hope, Draco,” his mother said softly but firmly as she took the bag from him and carried it to their refrigerator, where she began to unload the food. “It has cursed this family.”

 


	5. Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This'll be the last chapter I post for about 2 weeks, because trying to find time to work on my fic stuff/post during the Festivus season when I have no internet at home is really difficult. Next update will be January 7th, when we will be back to a regular posting schedule. Happy Holidays, everyone!
> 
> **Trigger Warning:** The second half of this chapter contains a scene of strong violence and implied sexual violence.

Chapter Five – Closer

 

The reference that Snape had made hinting that Malfoy had been fucked by his uncle had left Harry in some sort of strange mental halfway place. He felt stuck between being wholly unsurprised that his Uncle Vernon was that much of a scumbag, but at the same time, his sheer disgust that Malfoy had to endure such a thing made his desire to help him increase tenfold. His uncle had hit him, starved him, made his life hell, but he'd never done _that_ to him.

Even trying to _imagine_ it was enough to make Harry feel physically ill, and to be forced to _do_ it as Malfoy had was just too horrible to imagine.

First, Harry canvassed Malfoy's usual spots where he and his pimp had been seen hanging about, but Malfoy was absent. He asked for him at the club—in disguise, just in case Malfoy refused to see him—but he had apparently quit a fortnight earlier with no explanation or prior notice. Harry had managed to wheedle Malfoy's address out of the club owner, and his worry shifted to genuine confusion as he staked out the shabby building under his invisibility cloak.

It was far and away from the manor where Malfoy _used_ to live, and even Harry's old cupboard looked like a palace in comparison. Addicts meandered down the streets, half out of their minds, selling their belongings and bodies to men for just one more hit of their preferred poisons. Worse still was Harry spotting Malfoy wandering up to these dealers every few days, and he traded wads of crisp bank notes for powders and pills.

Harry shuddered; he couldn't even _imagine_ what that stuff was doing to Malfoy's body.

In addition to Malfoy's drug habit, every day Harry was privy to the strangest sight for this poor neighbourhood—a sleek black car that looked like it had just rolled off the lot. It would pull up outside Malfoy's building, and Malfoy himself would appear at the doors in a black suit that he probably couldn't afford, and he slipped into the vehicle.

It always drove away with Harry having never seen the driver, given that they never got out, and their windows were tinted.

For the first few days, Harry watched and waited, hoping that the driver would show himself, but when he did not Harry returned to Malfoy's building with one of the brooms for Auror use only—the Invisibility Broom.

The Invisibility Broom had been Harry's idea, and as it would turn out, it would be an invaluable one. It was a broom not unlike the Invisibility Booster in Arthur Weasley's old Ford Anglia, and rendered the rider invisible under a controlled Disillusionment Charm. It made tracking down fugitives and spying on possible illegal activity a hundred times easier, and Harry was rather proud that he'd come up with the idea for an item that was now standard-issue to all Aurors and Trainee Aurors.

Perched upon the broom Harry tracked the car, weaving through traffic as he followed Malfoy and his _friend._

They eventually pulled into the car park of The British Museum, and out stepped an older man with silver hair, good-looking, and Harry frowned disapprovingly when he watched the man circle the vehicle and open the door for Malfoy, then draped his arm over the young man's shoulders as he led him up to the doors of the building.

_Malfoy has a sugar daddy,_ Harry thought as he watched them go. _Well, that certainly explains a lot._

Harry forced himself to do the thing properly, and he snuck into the building to follow the couple. He watched as the unnamed older man led Malfoy through a number of the exhibits, explaining things more eloquently than the tour guides did. Malfoy appeared enraptured by the man's words, and the starry-eyed look he saw upon the younger man's face was unsettling, to say the least. Was Malfoy actually in _love_ with this man?

Harry shivered a little. Somehow, it seemed _wrong_ to him.

 

After the museum, Malfoy and his _friend_ went to a high-end restaurant to eat, then rounded off their evening by heading for a lavish hotel. Harry didn't feel particularly inclined to follow them into the last destination; he had a feeling he knew _exactly_ what they were getting up to.

Harry headed home, hissed a greeting to Belvedere, asleep upon the hearth by the fire, and he flicked his tongue at Harry without a word.

Sisyphus was a little warmer with his greeting of Harry, and nipped at Harry's ear affectionately as he landed on his shoulder, and stuck out his leg where a tiny scroll was tied. He recognized the spidery handwriting on the outside of the scroll as Snape's, and he untied the tiny scroll with a halfhearted thank-you to the owl.

“Let's see what Snape wants this time...” Harry muttered to himself as he unrolled the parchment to find a short, terse letter within.

 

_Potter,_

_Meet me this Saturday at my home at four PM. I wish to discuss your investigation into Draco's situation, and I think it would be best for the time being that we are not seen in public together. I would like to propose a bi-weekly meeting to ensure that you stay on track and not do anything monumentally stupid that might push him away instead of drawing him closer._

_S. Snape_

 

“Tea with Severus Snape...” Harry mumbled to himself as his head flopped back against the upholstery of the sofa. “Brilliant.”

Harry blinked as he stared at the short letter, and watched as a sudden postscript bloomed into existence upon the parchment.

 

_I didn't say tea._

 

Harry rolled his eyes.

 

Despite Snape's protests, there was, in fact, tea.

It smelled safe enough, and Harry flicked his wand at the teacup as surreptitiously as he could, just in case. With one Severus Snape, you could never be too careful. He sipped the drink, and felt strangely unsettled when he watched Snape do the exact same thing from across the polished coffee table.

“So tell me, Potter,” Snape said as he set down his cup and steepled his fingers, his body bowed forward in order to rest his elbows upon the tops of his thighs, “what have you discovered since our last friendly little chat?”

“Assuming you or I get through to him, it's going to be a disaster no matter how it's approached,” Harry said, adopting his _Professional Auror_ voice, which unfortunately did not seem to impress Snape all that much. He inclined his head once, inviting Harry silently to continue. “He's definitely an addict, but I've never had much call to see how muggle drugs affect wizards, if it's different, or what. I thought about asking Hermione—”

“—you will _not_ tell your little friends what has become of Draco,” Snape said firmly, and Harry frowned.

“Why not?” he demanded, while he did his best to mask his feeling of sudden dread, given that he _had_ already talked to Hermione about it. “Hermione's not Ron, she wouldn't judge him for what's happened to him.”

“Oh no?” Snape arched his eyebrows. “Miss Busybodied Know-It-All, who forces her own beliefs upon anyone who chooses to oppose her? Strange, it sounds very _much_ like her.”

“You don't know Hermione at all,” Harry said coldly, and Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry's tone of voice. “She's pushy, yeah, but she's not _stupid_. She understands people better than you think, Snape.”

Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry in clear challenge, but Harry did not back down, and instead met the glare brazenly with one of his own.

“Be that as it may, Potter, do _not_ tell her,” Snape said firmly in a tone of voice that clearly stated _no arguments_ , one which Harry had no intention of following. “Draco would not appreciate Granger of all people knowing what has become of him, regardless how _well-intentioned_ she may be.”

Harry frowned, but did not argue, uncertain how well he'd be able to keep his deception secret if he tried to debate the subject with the older man. When he did not speak again, Snape filled in the silence.

“As far as studies have shown, muggle drugs affect wizards in the same way as they do muggles, though many from pureblood family lines are more likely to become substance abusers,” Snape said, his eyes locking with Harry's as he spoke. “Their minds are weakened by their penchant for inbreeding, and as a result they do not have the necessary strength of mind to resist, as many normal wizards do. There are very few half-blood wizards on record who have become addicted to muggle drugs, and it seems as though the blending of magical and muggle blood is ideal for strengthening the mind against addictive tendencies. Ironic, considering how much stock purebloods put into their lineage.”

“So what you're saying is basically Malfoy is a hopeless case,” Harry said, and Snape scowled in response, but nodded.

“Unfortunately, yes, that is exactly what I am saying,” he said as he reached for his teacup. “What else have you discovered?”

“Malfoy seems to have gotten himself some kind of... _sugar daddy_ ,” Harry said, and wrinkled his nose.

“Explain.”

“Well, I got Malfoy's address from his old employer at the strip club he worked at, and I staked the place out. Some older man in a fancy car picked him up, and took him out round London. First to The British Museum, then to some upscale restaurant, then to a hotel. All of that seems like more than just the shagging for cash that he was doing before, so my guess is _sugar daddy_.”

“And do you suppose this man knows of Draco's substance abuse?”

“I have no clue. It's possible. I mean, I know he's not supplying Malfoy with the drugs—I've seen Malfoy buy them off some bloke near his flat—but lots of those men are into that sort of thing, aren't they?”

“It is certainly a possibility, depending on what kind of drugs Draco is ingesting,” Snape replied with a small incline of his head. He picked up up his teacup and sipped it, but the look that Harry saw in Snape's eyes was odd—more of a nonreaction than he had anticipated, almost as though none of this information came as a shock to him. Had Snape known all along about this mystery man, and sent Harry on a wild goose chase for nothing?

“I will research this man and see what I can discover,” Snape said, drawing Harry from his thoughts as he spoke. “It may help us to determine whether Draco's addiction is being encouraged by him or not.” He set aside his teacup and stood up suddenly, his hands brushing down the front of his robes to smooth them out, his dour expression unchanging—though it had adopted a certain thoughtful edge to it. “We shall meet again in a fortnight, Potter. See that you have something new to add by then.”

“I'll try,” Harry replied with a grimace, and Snape scowled at him again.

Snape shunted him out of the cottage without a proper goodbye, and as Harry wandered down the path to an Apparition point, he knew one thing for certain—he needed to talk to Malfoy.

 

~*~

 

Draco was antsy.

It was a Wednesday afternoon, but Draco found himself wholly incapable of sitting still, which was made worse by the knowledge that he was not meeting with his _daddy_ tonight, who had some sort of business meeting-dinner-thing to attend instead.

“ _I am so sorry, beautiful boy,_ ” he had said over the mobile that he had purchased for Draco, “ _but I will be unable to entertain you this evening. I will see you Thursday night, yes?_ ”

Draco had grudgingly agreed, but he was _not_ happy about it.

“Draco,” his mother said suddenly while he puttered about the kitchen, looking for something to do. “Why not go out for a bit on your own?”

Draco turned to her, and blinked in confusion.

“What?” he asked, and she smiled at him warmly. Draco had never quite gotten over the drastic change in his mother's attitude since they'd been forced out of the wizarding world; she had always been good to him, of course, but in the years since their exile it had humbled her, perhaps as much as it had humbled Draco, and she was warmer and more generous than she had ever been before. Ever since his employment with Schroeder in particular, she seemed to have relaxed even further, with them having next to no financial stresses, and were already very close to being in the black for the first time in years.

“Go out for a while, do something _fun_ , for you, not for your... _friend_ ,” she said, “go down to a pub and have a drink, chat up someone your own age, go down to the shops, something. I think it would do you good to breathe the free air for a little while.”

“But, I...I don't know what I like to do,” Draco replied, blinking with confusion as he thought on it. What did he _like_ to do? He'd spent so much time working to keep his family fed that he rarely had time to himself like this. “I used to like playing Quidditch, but that's not really an option anymore...”

“Don't think on the wizarding world, Draco,” Narcissa said firmly, her mouth immediately twitching into a frown. “It will do no good. That world is lost to us, and dwelling on it will only lead to despair. Go out, do something that will make you smile.”

Draco had a feeling that he wasn't getting out of her so-called _suggestion_ with a bland, “I don't feel like it,” and so he reluctantly pulled himself into some of the new clothes Schroeder had purchased for him—black jeans that were fitted and _sinfully_ comfortable, and a black button-down silk shirt that he rolled up at the elbows in an effort to make it appear more casual. He paused by the mirror to ensure that his hair looked acceptable, and after drawing on his pea coat and grabbing an umbrella, he headed out the door.

Outside the sky was dark and gloomy, and seemed to still be deciding whether to rain or not, as random droplets spat upon the pavement, but was not frequent enough for Draco to call it _rain_.

Draco had to admit that the walk was helping his mind to calm itself, and unbeknownst to his mother, the Valium certainly aided in that department, too.

Smiling bitterly, Draco walked until he made it to the West End, and to one of the pubs in that area.

Draco chose a table off to the side, and ordered himself a scotch. Outside he could hear the distinct rush of heavy rain suddenly plummeting onto the roof of the building, and he smiled to himself.

_Maybe my luck is finally turning round_ , Draco thought as his drink arrived and he brought the glass to his lips. _I would have been still outside when it started to pour not a year ago._

“Mind if I join you?” a sudden voice said, and Draco's soft smile twitched into a smirk.

_Yes my luck is certainly turning r—_ the thought cut off before he could complete it when he spotted just _who_ had requested that they join him.

“ _Potter!_ ” Draco spat as he shot him a glare, and Potter flinched as though he had been struck. “What the _hell_ are you doing here? If you're looking to cash in your Life Debt by way of a _favour_ of my trade, you better pick something else before I make you regret it.”

“What?” Potter stared at Draco, his confusion shifting to shock when he seemed to understand what Draco was implying. “ _No!_ God, _no._ That's not why I'm here.”

“When why _are_ you? Of all the people to chat up at a pub, I hardly think I'm your first choice. Don't you usually go for Sheasleys?”

“What the bloody hell is a _Sheasley?_ ”

“A She-Weasley,” Draco replied with another sip of his drink, and Potter snorted.

“You and Snape, I swear, you see me out with a girl _once_ and you assume I like pussy.” He flagged down one of the servers and muttered a quick, “top shelf whisky,” before he turned back to Draco with that ridiculous happy-go-lucky smile of his, and Draco glared at him again. If Severus was involved, clearly Potter's stalking was not just on a whim.

“What did Severus tell you?” Draco demanded, and pressed one hand to the table, having half a mind to leave right now before Potter got on one of his holier-than-thou speeches about how he could _save_ Draco from himself.

He'd had enough of Potter's _saving_ to last him a lifetime.

“No, wait, Malfoy, please,” Potter said quickly, and his eyes widened to a wounded puppy sort of look. “I'm sorry, I just...I really had no idea how bad it was for you, if I'd known, I would have stepped in sooner—”

“I do not need, nor do I _want_ your help,” Draco hissed, and again Potter flinched. This time, Draco did not bother to reign in his temptation to roll his eyes, and Potter frowned at him.

“ _Yes, you do,_ ” Potter said firmly, in a tone not unlike a parent scolding a wilful child. Draco narrowed his eyes dangerously, but this time Potter did not back off. “You're totally destroying yourself with drugs and alcohol and selling your body to anyone who takes a fancy to you, it's not healthy, you _need_ someone to help you.”

“And you suppose that _you_ fit the role of my personal saviour?” Draco sneered. “Fuck off. Go back to your fame, and your fortune. My mother saved your fucking life during the last battle and you know what she does day after day now? She takes care of the shell that was once my father. She feeds him and changes him like a child, she reads to him, she lies awake at night to make sure he doesn't stop breathing in his sleep—which _has_ happened a few times, and she coaxes a handful of colourful pills down his throat with his morning herbal tea, because without them he runs the risk of hurting us, or himself. That is my mother's reward for risking everything and lying to the Dark Lord's face, telling him that you were dead. Doesn't it sound just _so_ glamorous?”

Draco was breathing heavily as though he'd been running, and he glared across the table at Potter, who was staring back at him with a look of shock upon his face. His eyes were wide and his tan complexion had gone dangerously pale.

“I always felt guilty about not doing more for you and your mum during the trials, but I had no idea it was _this_ bad...” Potter murmured, more to himself than to Draco. “I just...I didn't _want_ to know for a long time, and then when Snape came to me...he sort of forced me to do something about it, you know?”

“He does generally have that effect, unfortunately,” Draco muttered as he signalled the server for another drink. He was _far_ too clearheaded for such an infuriating conversation, and now, he had a fairly good idea where it was headed, too. This was a _relieve Potter of his guilt_ conversation, not an _offer Draco an actual solution to his problem_ one _._

Draco scowled, and crossed his arms. Potter really was much more selfish and pigheaded than most people gave him credit for.

“I just...I want to help, _really_ ,” Potter continued, “I want to help you clean up, maybe I can help you do something else, something more...more...”

“...respectable?” Draco asked, and arched a brow at Potter. He flushed red, and nodded.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“And what, pray, do you suggest? Teach me how to make pastry to that I can work at a pie and mash shop, or teach little children how to read? Perhaps take up a vow of silence in a monastery?” Draco's sneer became more pronounced with every word, while Potter seemed to get more and more upset by his attitude. “What I do in a week pays me more than what you could make in three months. Why on _earth_ would I give that up?”

“Is money really more important to you than your dignity? Your self-respect?”

“Yes,” Draco responded at once, without any hesitation in his voice. “You can afford to feed your family...or lack thereof; up until recently, I could not. Do not lord over me with such ridiculous protests like _dignity_ when for _six years_ I did not know whether we would make it to the end of the month or not. My companion has been a fucking Godsend, and you will never convince me to leave him.”

“Malfoy, please, are you even listening to yourself?” Potter demanded, his eyes wide and plaintive. “You sound half-mad. This _can't_ be how you want to live your life from now on—”

“—why not,” Draco interrupted with another glare, “because _Saint Potter_ doesn't approve? Fuck you, and go stuff your high-minded morals up your arse.”

Without another word, Draco gathered up his jacket and stormed from the pub.

 

The fact that it seemed to have stopped raining was a small mercy, and Draco did not get soaked as he all but ran from the pub and from Potter. He only stopped walking until he'd made it roughly two blocks away, and it appeared as though Potter had not followed him. With a small sigh of relief, he slumped against the red bricks of a nearby building, and pulled a fag from his pocket. With mildly shaking hands, he rested it between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag before exhaling the smoke in a thin stream. The tobacco helped to siphon off some of his frustration, but what he _really_ wanted to do wasn't really possible in such a public area.

Draco let out a tiny groan of frustration, and took another drag off his cigarette. He let his eyes slide shut as he listened for any telltale sign that Potter had followed him, but so far, aside from the usual city sounds, he heard nothing else.

_Thank the Gods for small mercies,_ Draco thought with a small smile, and shifted his gaze to the sky. It was no longer dark, but a steel-grey, and it looked as though the clouds had finished drenching London—for now, at least.

“All alone today, sweetheart?” a voice asked, and Draco turned to see a man sauntering up to him. Though it was thankfully not Severus or Potter, it was still someone he recognized—his pseudo-stalker.

“What part of _fuck off_ is escaping your understanding?” Draco asked icily as he moved to step around the man, but he did not seem as keen to let Draco walk off, and a hand clapped around his wrist, stopping him short. Still maintaining an air of calm despite the alarm bells ringing inside his head, Draco lifted his gaze to the man again, and once more raised an eyebrow at him.

“You think you can just _say_ that to me and swan off like it's nothing?” the man snarled, “I _paid_ for your arse, you whore!”

The stranger yanked him back, and Draco grunted in pain as the back of his head collided sharply with the building. A sticky warmth painted his hair and he lifted his free hand up to the spot that had hit the stone, and his fingers came back dotted with red.

“Fuck you,” Draco snarled as he yanked at the captive wrist in the man's hand, but he would not let go. “Just because you paid me _once_ doesn't mean you get a free ride. Let me _go_.”

Draco yelped as the man ignored him and twisted his arm behind his back, dragging him into a nearby alleyway. He fought, struggling and attempting to back-kick the man's knees, but after so many years of abusing his body with too many drugs and not enough food, he was too weak to fight him.

Stone bit into his back again as the man shoved him hard and let him go, then reached down to squeeze at Draco's flaccid cock through his jeans. Frightened tears sprung to his eyes before he could stop them, while at the same time he lifted his hands to push at the man's chest, trying to force him off with little success. He could feel the blood trickling down to the nape of his neck, and the head wound, though still fresh, was already making him feel woozy.

Pain blinded his senses, and when Draco's mind cleared, he found himself on the ground with the man looming over him. The side of his head ached as much as the back of it, and Draco assumed that the man had punched him in an effort to stop his struggling. His vision swam, and the image of the man wavered, like a hallucination in a mirage.

“No...” Draco croaked, “please...please, don't hurt me...”

The weak tone made him burn with shame, but without a wand or the physical strength needed to defend himself, he had no idea what else he could do to save himself.

The man ignored him as he reached down to pick something up off the ground, and lifted it to Draco's line of sight—his still-lit cigarette.

“You dropped something, whore,” he sneered. “Let me give it back to you...”

Draco had about three seconds' warning of what he was about to do as a hand clapped over his mouth, and the man pressed the lit end to his chest. Draco screamed, the sound muffled by the hand, and when the man pulled his hand away, he slapped Draco— _hard_.

“You're a whore; a slut. If I killed you, no one would miss you, and I'd get away with it too, because no one cares about whores. You need to learn to respect your superiors, and I think I know just how to teach you...” The man smirked, and with one hand still holding him down, he fished in his pocket for a moment before pulled out a shiny silver mobile. He flipped it open, and punched a few keys before he lifted it to his ear.

“Hey, mate,” he said into the receiver, “get the boys together, I think I've found just the thing for tonight's entertainment...

 


	6. Saviours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks guys so much for your patience, now that the hellish holidays are over, we are back to our regularly scheduled updates! :D Next one will be January 14th. There is a bit of a time rewind at the beginning of this chapter, but I don't think it should be too jarring or confusing. Enjoy!
> 
> **Trigger Warning:** In the second half of this chapter there is a scene of violence, slut shaming, non-consensual drug use, and an extremely graphic scene of gang rape. I really had a hard time writing it, and I was very conflicted about including it. You have been warned. If you want to skip it, the scene starts at the page break (~*~) and ends at, “With the force of a short-range missile...”

Chapter Six – Saviours

 

Harry watched Malfoy storm off, and he hissed a soft curse.

“That went well...” he muttered sarcastically to himself while he shifted his gaze back to the empty seat that Malfoy had occupied mere moments before. “Why can I never keep my head when I talk to him?”

His drink finally came, and Harry drained half of it in one. The burn was as soothing as a good cup of tea, and helped him clear his head enough to properly brood on what had just happened.

It was quite clear that Malfoy was deeply in denial about what his lifestyle was doing to him. He was thinner than Harry had ever seen him, his skin was almost grey, but more flushed than it had been when he'd seen Malfoy at the club. In short, Malfoy was a mess, and was clearly heading for some sort of disaster, if he kept this up.

“I better get this over with and go after him before he goes and does something stupid...” Harry muttered before he drained the rest of his drink, dropped some change onto the tabletop, and took his leave.

 

Outside, Harry ducked into an alley and pulled out his invisibility cloak, which he compulsively carried practically everywhere he went. He drew it on before he grabbed his wand, and laid it flat in his palm.

“ _Point me to Draco Malfoy_ ,” Harry muttered, and chewed the inside of his cheek nervously as the narrow piece of wood began to spin. The person-oriented Four-Point Spell, an experimental spell of Hermione's creation, was still a bit unpredictable, and Harry prayed that it would work how it was supposed to.

The wand stopped and pointed west. Harry pocketed it and moved to remove his invisibility cloak, but paused with his hand curled around the silvery fabric. Quite possibly, Malfoy would leg it the moment he caught sight of Harry, if their last conversation was anything to go by.

“The things I bloody do for that fucking prat...” Harry grumbled, and with the cloak still wrapped securely around himself, he headed down the street at a brisk walking pace.

Harry hurried half-ran for a solid ten minutes, but did not find any trace of Malfoy. He tried the Four-PointSpell again, and it seemed as though he was still heading in the right direction, which was at least a small consolation. He continued to grumble to himself about how much trouble it was, trying to save Malfoy from himself, when he was privy to the most curious sight, and for a moment, Harry was so shocked by what he was seeing that it froze him to the spot.

Malfoy, pale and unconscious, with a blooming bruise on one side of his face, and the back of his head was caked in blood and grime, and he was held aloft in the arms of an unfamiliar muggle. He moved towards a modestly-sized Honda, and stuffed Malfoy into the boot of it, before he circled to the driver's side of the car.

“Hey, _wait!_ ” Harry cried suddenly as he snapped out of his shock and began to run forwards, wholly forgetting that he was still wrapped up in his cloak, but it was too late. With a roar of the engine the car sped off, it moving well above the speed limit, and was gone within seconds.

“Shit, shit, shit, _shit_...” Harry hissed to himself, as he buried his fingers in his hair and stared at the spot that the car had occupied mere moments before.

_If I go to Snape for his help, he'll probably kill me for letting this happen to his precious Malfoy,_ Harry thought, then immediately shook his head as his heart twinged with guilt at the horribly selfish train of thought. _It doesn't matter, if I leave it be and take too long trying to find him myself, they might kill Malfoy, or worse. I can't let that happen._

Bracing himself for an argument, Harry focused his thoughts on Snape's little cottage, and spun on the spot.

 

Harry landed on the edge of the wooded area that concealed Snape's home, and rushed up the path, stumbling a little in his haste, not stopping long enough to let the aftereffects of the Apparition trip wear off. He yanked off the cloak and crammed it into his pocket as he hurried up to the door, and immediately began to hammer on the aged wood.

No answer.

“Of all the fucking times to get a life...” Harry hissed to himself, and knocked again, praying that Snape was just very deeply asleep. “Snape! Open up!” Harry called, but still no one came to the door. He knocked again, and again, and even as his knuckles began to ache, Snape did not answer his calling.

Harry dropped his arm, his knuckles red and inflamed, and began to pace in front of the cottage. His hands lifted again to tangle in his hair, making it stick up more than usual. In his blinding panic, he was at a complete loss of what to do. Should he leave a note and try tracking Malfoy himself? Should he send out Sisyphus to try and try to find Snape? Should he wait?

A sharp _crack_ , signalling someone Apparating into the space sounded nearby, and Harry nearly wept with relief. He turned, and started slightly at the sight of Snape in a set of sleek, expensive-looking dress robes.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” Harry demanded before he could think better of it, and Snape scowled at him.

“A Potions Conference in Brighton, not that that is any of your concern,” Snape replied, and Harry scowled at him. “Is there any particular reason you're hanging about my doorstep, Potter?”

Suddenly, Harry remembered why he was even there to begin with.

“It's Malfoy,” Harry said quickly, “I haven't got time to explain, some muggle attacked him and kidnapped him, and he was in a _bad_ way, and took off before I could follow—”

“Where?” Snape interrupted, his eyes flashing not with the usual anger, but instead with concern.

“London, a few blocks from this gay pub—” Harry began, but broke off with surprise when Snape suddenly grabbed hold of his arm.

“Show me.”

Harry stared, hesitant only for a moment, then spun on the spot and dragged Snape with him back to where Malfoy had been taken.

 

~*~

 

Draco's head ached.

The pain was sharp, and near blinding. Draco's eyelids quivered, but the pain became too difficult to bear, and he clenched his eyes shut again. _What happened?_ He couldn't remember.

Draco was cold, and he could feel himself shivering. A low murmur of voices surrounded him, but he did not recognize any of them.

_What happened?_ Draco wondered again as he let out a low moan of pain, _where am I?_

“Oi, Sleeping Beauty's wakin' up!” a voice called, and the sudden sound made Draco's head twinge painfully.

A rough, callused hand suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him onto his back. Fingers dug into the hinge of his jaw, and when Draco's lips parted to gasp in surprise and pain, some sort of liquid was immediately squirted into the back of his throat, making him choke and sputter. The laughter rang out again, and Draco felt himself go cold. There was more than one or two people in the room—the laughter was far too loud for it to be so few, and he felt his terror begin to mount.

The pain receded a little as his coughing tapered out, and Draco forced his eyes open. He did a quick count, and felt slightly sick to his stomach.

Six large and burly men, undressed from the waist down, all surrounding Draco with matching erections, with a video camera set up at the end of the bed.

Draco's head spun in a panic, and he tried to jump up and off the bed, only to wobble dangerously and fall back down. The men laughed again.

“What—what did you give me?” Draco rasped, his heart beating so fast and loud that it sounded almost deafening in his own ears.

“Jus' a little summat ta keep ya calm,” one of them men supplied with a giggle. “Ya feel it yet, darlin'?”

Draco clenched his eyes shut as the world spun again, but it seemed to be a bad move as the same rough hands grabbed at him. He cried out, and his eyes flew open as one of the men flipped Draco onto his stomach, then forced him onto all fours. He squirmed and struggled against the man, but he was slow and sluggish from whatever drug had been forced into him, and Draco found it difficult to move with any sort of speed.

“No, _no!_ ” Draco cried, and more laughter sounded out around him as sudden slick fingers invaded his arse, preparing him roughly and inadequately as tears began to streak his cheeks.

“Oh, there's nothing sexier than a pretty-boy when he cries,” one of the men said with a sickening moan.

“Why _is_ he crying anyway?” another one of them asked, “hey, slut, why you cryin'? We seen you out on them street corners pedalling yer arse, we _know_ you like this.”

Draco shook his head, but that only aided in making him feel even more dizzy. He moaned again, and tried to squirm away from the man behind him. The small movement made his head spin again, and the same rough hands stopped him from going too far.

“I don't think he's gonna answer you, Rick,” one of the men said, and the man, apparently called Rick, tutted.

“Gonna have to teach 'im a lesson, haven't I?” he said, and Draco let out a crying scream when he felt the bed dip.

“He's gonna get us complained about if he keeps makin' that racket!” cried one of the other men indignantly as Draco continued to try and struggle through the increasing dizziness, to no avail.

“Oh, I got an idea!” another said suddenly, and the bed dipped again as one of the other men climbed up in front of him, trapping Draco between two bodies.

Fresh tears streaked his cheeks as the man in front of him grabbed his head roughly, pressing both palms to either side of his head, making his injuries ache, and he was given roughly three seconds' warning before the man forced his erect cock into Draco's mouth, choking and silencing him immediately.

Cheers followed this action as drool trickling from the corners of Draco's mouth as he struggled to breathe around the cock in his throat. He was so busy trying to stop himself from suffocating that he'd quite forgotten about the other man on the bed with them, and at almost the same moment he felt the other man force himself into Draco's arse, making him cry out in surprise and pain at the invasion.

The two men fucked Draco's arse and mouth out of sync with each other, making it difficult for Draco to take himself away from the situation and simply pretend that it wasn't actually happening. Every time he tried, the sharp jerk of one of the men would drag him back to reality, and fresh tears would drip down his cheeks.

Laughter and camera flashes flooded the room, making Draco's dizziness and overwhelming panic even worse. Draco was so lost to the intermingled pain and dizziness and overwhelming fear that he was unable to prepare for the men's respective releases. When the man assaulting his mouth did orgasm, it came suddenly, and Draco choked as it hit the back of his throat. The man fucking his arse came a moment later, and both pulled out of him, making remarks that sounded less like voices, and more like white noise in his ears.

Draco fell to the bed, coughing wetly as he struggled to support himself on his limbs. Each time, he would slump down to the bed, his cheek pressed hard into the duvet.

Another pair of men climbed onto the bed, and again Draco's weakened, hoarse pleas were completely ignored as they assaulted him. Draco tried to fight, and bit down on the cock in his mouth, which earned him a punch to the side of his head, hard enough that he saw stars. Too stunned to fight back again, the man forced his cock back into Draco's mouth.

A little more prepared this time around, Draco was certain he could anticipate when the cock in his mouth would cum, but the man seemed to be determined to keep him as uncomfortable as possible, and when he came, he forced his cock down Draco's throat as far as it would go, completely cutting off the flow of oxygen to his lungs.

Draco choked and grappled weakly at the man's thighs in a silent plea, and the moment his vision began to bend the man pulled away, and Draco sucked in air greedily as he collapsed to the bed again.

“Careful,” one of them said as they swapped out again, “don't want him fainting before we've finished.”

“Sorry, mate, couldn't resist, he jus' looks so pretty when he's choking on my pork.”

Sick, guffawing laughter followed, and Draco shuddered as he was overwhelmed with shame.

Draco felt strangely numb as the next two men took their places, and once again his body was invaded, but this time, something happened that Draco did not expect.

With the force of a short-range missile, the motel's door was blown completely off its hinges with a loud _bang_. It flew across the room, and slammed into the wall, dragging a cloud of plaster dust right along with it.

The two men on him jumped away, and Draco fell heavily to the bedspread, coughing again as chaos descended around him. He curled up and put an arm over his head in a feeble attempt to try and shield himself from the yells, and hide his body from who he supposed must be the police performing some sort of raid—that is, until he heard a voice shout, “ _Stupefy!_ ”

_Potter._

Draco didn't know whether to curse or cry with relief.

More cries and scuffling, and at the same time, Draco started when a sudden warmth enveloped him as a blanket was draped over him.

“It's all right, Draco,” a low, velvet voice that did not belong to Potter said, “you're safe.”

Thin but strong arms lifted him up, he still securely wrapped in the blanket, but Draco refused to open his eyes. There was every chance that this was a wildly vivid hallucination, and he wasn't ready for it to end yet.

“Potter, stop dallying, hurry up!” Severus barked, and Draco curled his head forward while he reached up blindly to grip at Severus's robes.

“You go on ahead,” Potter replied in a distracted tone, “I need to contact the Obliviators and make a report about this. I won't be long.”

“See that you aren't,” Severus said tersely, and turned with Draco still in his arms, barely jostling him as he moved. Draco whimpered, but did not speak as his hold on Severus's hold on him tightened.

“ _Portus,_ ” Severus muttered, and a moment later Draco felt the distinct sensation of a hook behind his navel as he was dragged away.

 

Severus slammed into the ground, but stayed standing even with Draco in his arms, and Draco's nose was filled with the scent of heavy greenery—they were in a forest.

Draco chanced opening his eyes, and he looked up to see Severus standing over him. He did not bend or waver the way his hallucinations usually did, but instead remained solid. Draco reached up to touch his cheek, and Severus looked down at him, his aloof, almost emotionless expression unchanging as he regarded the injured young man.

“You came for me,” Draco said in a soft, raspy voice.

“I did,” Severus confirmed, and began to move. Draco turned his head a little, and saw that they were approaching a little cottage that looked like a palace compared to the flat that he shared with his parents.

“Where are we?” Draco asked, but immediately clenched his eyes shut as the pain began to return, and he let out a small moan. Severus's arms tensed around him gently.

“My home,” he replied in a soft, consoling tone of voice. “Just relax, Draco, no one is here to hurt you. I will keep you safe.”

“My...my mother...” Draco muttered as they crossed the threshold, and he whimpered again, but this time in longing. So many scents he attributed to life within the wizarding world invaded his senses—the smell of wood smoke, the faint but distinct tang of pickling brine, and the sweet scent of dried flowers, presumably from Severus's garden. It brought to Draco both a bitter anguish and an uproarious joy, and he nearly wept from it.

“I will contact Narcissa and let her know what has happened,” Severus replied smoothly as they passed through the main area of the house and into a cramped guest bedroom that Draco would have at one time called small, but now looked almost enormous to him, given that it was nearly half the size of his entire flat. A little twin bed with dark blue blankets sat in one corner, with a wardrobe and writing desk on the opposite side of the room. A little square window looked out on the dense foliage of the forest, and when Draco looked up, he caught sight of a doe and fawn wandering past.

“Don't—” Draco choked out when it suddenly registered what Severus was saying, and his gaze snapped back to his former professor. He arched an eyebrow at Draco, and he quickly elaborated, “please don't tell my mother what's happened. She doesn't know what I do, she thinks I work at a restaurant. Just tell her I was mugged or something. _Please_ don't tell her.”

Severus did not immediately respond. Instead, he pulled back the duvet as he eased Draco down onto the bed, and moved a hand to his temple, brushing his fingers across the uninjured side lightly.

“I promise, Draco,” Severus murmured as he flicked his wand, conjuring a pair of pyjamas for him, and tugged the blanket up to his chin.

Draco expected Severus to immediately take leave of him, but instead he watched in quiet amazement as Severus sat at his side, and began to stroke his hair in gentle, oddly familiar touches—though he could not place _why_ they felt so achingly familiar.

“Just rest, Draco,” Severus murmured gently, “let me take care of you.”

“I—my...my...employer, so to speak, he won't know what's happened,” Draco mumbled sleepily, his eyelids flicking open and shut as he tried to stay awake a little longer. “I...I need to tell him...”

“Hush,” Severus murmured, his fingers tangled in Draco's sweat-dampened hair, “just rest, beautiful boy. You've been strong for long enough, I will look after you.”

_Beautiful boy?_

Draco stared at Severus, his brow furrowed with confusion.

“Severus?” Draco asked weakly, but the older man's impassive expression did not change.

“Sleep,” Severus commanded.

Draco obeyed, and his eyes slid shut.

 


	7. Venom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A little shorter than my usual, sorry guys! Next update will be January 21st.

Chapter Seven – Venom

 

Harry hated how long Ministry proceedings took, and he cursed to himself as he finally Apparated outside of Snape's cottage over an hour later.

“Bloody Obliviators wouldn't fucking know their wands from their arseholes...” Harry grumbled as he let himself in, but did not immediately see Snape anywhere.

Harry kicked his boots off and ventured farther into the cottage, while he prayed that Snape would not be cross with him for letting himself in, given the circumstances.

Harry moved from the main area of the cottage to a narrow hallway that led to the bedrooms, and spotted one of the doors slightly ajar. He peered inside, and felt his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Malfoy was lying in the bed, bundled up like a sleeping child. The wound upon the side of his head had been cleaned and tended to, but still bore all manner of sickly purple and green bruising. Snape sat at his side, his long fingers lightly stroking Malfoy's hair, but beyond the look of Malfoy looking so badly beaten, it was the expression on Snape's face that gave Harry pause. The concern he saw there was not one of a parent, or even that of a former teacher.

It was that of a lover.

_Is Snape in_ love _with Malfoy?_ Harry wondered as he goggled at the pair before he had the good sense to mask his shock—certainly Snape would not appreciate being gawked at.

Harry tried to process the concept of Snape feeling that way about someone so much younger than him.

Was it normal?

Was it wrong?

Was it both normal _and_ wrong?

Or, was it...right?

Harry took a small step back from the door, and the creak of the floor caused Snape's eyes to snap up. He slowly retracted his hand from Malfoy's hair, but did not look at all guilty about being caught with Malfoy in such a way.

_Maybe I'm just overthinking it,_ Harry thought as he flushed red and mumbled a quick apology, _I was never great shakes at being observant anyway._

“How is he?” Harry asked softly once Snape had stepped out of the room and shut the door.

“Traumatized,” Snape replied tersely. “It's a miracle he was still so coherent when I brought him here. He has more strength in him than I think he knows.”

“And what about his injuries?” Harry asked as they moved back to the main area of the house. “You didn't heal him?”

“I did what I could, Potter,” Snape said in the same impatient and cold tone. “It looks like they gave him Ketamine—it's a date-rape drug—to keep him compliant, and it has a nasty tendency to inhibit healing potions from working properly. He also has about half a dozen other things in his system, I contacted Poppy in your absence, and at the moment, because of how muddled his system is with drugs, there is almost nothing I can do but let his body heal naturally.”

“Can...Can I do anything?” Harry asked uncertainly, and frowned when the tentative question was met with a glare.

“Now, suddenly, you _want_ to help,” Snape sneered sarcastically, and Harry glared at his tone.

“Don't fucking start, Snape,” Harry growled while he ignored Snape's answering sneer. “I wanted to help before, but you didn't want to listen to what I had to say. Now, _tell me how I can help._ It was my fault he stormed off like that to begin with, so let me do _something_ to fix the mess I made.”

Snape held his gaze for a long, uninterrupted moment. He still looked furious, but curiously less so, like he was uncertain whether Harry was being genuine or not.

“I have a lot of work to do, and the last thing I need is you underfoot while I do it,” Snape groused, making Harry frown. “Go to Narcissa and tell her what has happened. She can't leave Lucius alone, and I doubt that she will feel comfortable leaving you with him, but it is best that she knows what's happened, or she will worry when Draco does not return home tonight.”

“What do I tell her?” Harry asked uncertainly, “the truth? D'you think she knows what Malfoy's been—”

“Draco informed me that she has no idea,” Snape interrupted curtly. “It would be best to keep the lies simple. He was mugged while walking, and you went after him, when you could not catch him, you asked me for help.”

“What if she won't talk to me?” Harry asked as his mouth twitched into a small frown, “she might still be holding a grudge over my part in their exile.”

Snape raised his eyebrows at Harry in a look that clearly said, _could you blame her?_ But he did not voice the statement. Instead, he pressed on in the same impatient, biting tone of voice.

“Her love of Draco will eclipse her petty grudges, of this I have no doubt,” Snape replied with a vague, dismissive wave of his hand. “Now go. I want to do some research and see if there is anything I can brew for Draco to take when he wakes, and we are wasting time.”

Harry nodded and hurried towards the front door. Upon the threshold he paused and bit his lip uncertainly and gazed back at Snape.

“Can I come back?”

Snape stared.

“I beg your pardon?” Snape asked silkily, and arched an eyebrow at Harry.

“I mean after,” Harry explained quickly, and tried to valiantly ignore the way his face coloured with embarrassment at the way Snape was looking at him. Something about the disbelieving arched brow made Harry feel like he was requesting something naughty. “I just want to sit with him, make amends...if he'll let me.”

“Draco has a lot of healing to do, Potter,” Snape said firmly, “most of the damage done is to his mind, which has been badly addled by his dependency on muggle drugs, and he will need to be weaned off of them slowly. Before you see Narcissa, go back to the motel room, search his clothes, and check his flat as well, anything that might indicate what he was taking.” Snape paused, and glared at Harry again. “Do _not_ tell Narcissa that he has been doing this to himself, it will destroy her. Am I being perfectly clear, Potter?”

Harry frowned, but nodded his head. Did he seriously think Harry was stupid enough to tell Malfoy's mum that he was a drug addict?

Without saying a word, Harry already knew the answer to that one.

“We're clear,” he muttered, and with a sour look upon his face, he made for the door without looking back. He was irritated that Snape had not properly answered his question, but in hindsight, he supposed that that was to be expected. Snape was so fiercely protective of Draco that it was not unlike a mother bear to her cub, which was a strange, but endearing image as he made it past the cottage's warding, and Disapparated.

 

~*~

 

When Draco next woke, he was alone.

He breath flooded into his lungs in a sharp gasp, and he gazed around the room he was in with wide, panicked eyes.

Draco did not recognize where he was, but through his fogged mind, something told him that he was in a safe place.

_Impossible_.

Had he been in less pain, he would have laughed.

Draco forced himself up into a sitting position, and every muscle in his body seemed to protest the action. The blanket fell to pool at his hips, and he stared down at himself. He didn't recognize the pyjamas he wore. They were blue and white striped pyjamas, of a kind he could not recall ever wearing in his life.

Draco let out a low moan as his head spun. He was so confused.

He bowed his head forward, and his fingers pressed into his temples, but Draco immediately regretted it when both sides of his head twinged painfully.

_Something bad happened to me,_ Draco thought as he fought to control his panic-induced pants of breath, _something bad is still happening. Where am I? What is going on?_

A commotion near the door caused Draco to snap his head up, and he saw Severus Snape letting himself into the room. Draco blinked, and he felt hot tears immediately streak his cheeks as the realization that he was _truly_ safe dawned on him. Severus would _never_ hurt him—he really was safe.

“Draco?” Severus prompted as he swept over to the bedside, and sat down in the empty chair. “What's wrong? Why are you crying?”

“I don't know,” Draco replied weakly, and shook his head as he sniffed sharply and wiped his cheeks on his sleeve. “I don't know what's going on. Where am I? Why are you here? Why am I injured?”

“You don't remember,” Severus said, and Draco shook his head.

The older man drew in a deep breath, and eased back into the chair. His expression of vague concern disappeared behind a neutral mask, and it gave Draco the impression that he was doing some very quick thinking.

“You were raped, Draco,” Severus said gently, and twined his fingers together as he regarded the young man. “It is my belief that you can't remember it because your mind does not wish to deal with what happened. It was...it was quite brutal. I took you to my home to recuperate, and Potter is off running some errands for me, but it was he that alerted me to what had happened.”

_You were Raped_.

Draco shuddered with disgust and shame; his throat tightened, and his eyes stung. There was a residual ache that told him that his throat was damaged, but he could not think on what may have caused it—he _wouldn't._

“I can't remember any of it,” Draco muttered after a moment, repeating what Severus had told him while his gaze dropped to the bedspread as he traced the stitching in the blanket draped over him.

“You may, in time,” Severus replied in the same light tone, more gentle and caring that Draco would have expected from him. He had always been less strict with his Slytherins than the others back at school, but he was still far from what one might consider a warm and fuzzy person.

“Can't you just use a Memory Charm on me?”

“I absolutely cannot, for two reasons,” Severus replied, his voice seemingly caught between annoyance and sympathy. “First, because you mind is repressing it naturally. To rid your mind of it, I would need to force you to remember it, and to force someone to forget such a traumatic thing always leaves a mark on their mind. It would do more harm than good.”

“What's the other reason?” Draco asked sulkily as he frowned at Severus. In truth, he'd take the _mark on his mind_ over remembering what had happened, especially if it was as traumatic as Severus implied.

“Your body is riddled with muggle chemicals,” Severus said with an accusatory tone, and Draco immediately crossed his arms defensively, while the older man's scowl deepened. “It took some time to piece everything together from a bloods sample I took, but I found Ketamine, Cocaine, Gamma-Hydroxybutyric Acid, Prozac, Valium...Are there any muggle drugs you are _not_ taking?”

“You try living my life with a clear head and see how far you get,” Draco countered, speaking to his knees. “You've been out of my life for _years,_ Severus. Don't you _dare_ come waltzing back in and assume you know better than me.”

“I am a _Potions Master_ , you ridiculous boy, of course I know better than you,” Severus snarled, making Draco jump. “It's a miracle you haven't killed yourself with all the rubbish you've been pumping into your system.”

“It's _my_ body!” Draco snapped as he finally looked back up at the older man, “I can do as I like with it.”

“Are you listening to yourself, Draco?” Severus demanded, “are you really so foolish that you would throw your life away for an hour of bliss? Of false joy? Who will look after your mother and father if you lost your life? Who would provide for them? Did you think of them at all?”

Draco froze, and he stared at Severus as though he'd been slapped. He thought of his mother, alone with no one to speak to but his mad father, and his father, trapped inside his own mind.

A sudden hand slid over his own, and Draco jumped at the sudden touch. Severus immediately moved away, but Draco reached for his hand and caught it before he got very far.

“I will help you flush out your system of this poison if that is what you wish,” Severus said in a soft tone he'd never heard him use before. “It will be very hard, and you will hate me a great deal of the time. Know only that I have your best interests at heart, Draco. I wish to see you become the strong young man that I know you to be.”

“I don't know if I can,” Draco mumbled softly, his voice cracking a little. “It's...it's too hard, and I need it, no one wants a depressed whore...It keeps me smiling when I am at my worst. It makes me feel...like I can do anything.”

“It is false joy, Draco,” Severus said, and squeezed his hand gently. “Potter wants to make amends for his actions, and his blundering attempts at friendship or some Gryffindor imitation thereof aside, _I_ can help you. You don't have to do this to yourself anymore—you don't have to be alone in this.”

“What else could I even do?” Draco asked weakly, “I have nothing else to offer. My body is currency. Men love me.”

“The _wrong_ kinds of men,” Severus replied softly, but firmly. “You do not need to look so far for a warm body to share your bed, if that is what you seek. There are good men, _better_ men, where the mind is stronger than the penis.”

Draco choked and stared incredulously at Severus. Of all the ridiculous things that he could have said, Draco _never_ expected to hear Severus say such a thing. The older man did not appear embarrassed by the phrasing, and instead continued to gaze at Draco imploringly as he waited for him to respond.

“It's not so much the men that concerns me,” Draco replied once he'd calmed down. “I have a...a... _companion_ that I care about very much. He's very good to me, and pays me to be on his arm, but even if he didn't, I'd do it anyway.”

A strange flash crossed Severus's face, something almost like hurt. It was there and gone so quickly that Draco wondered if he may have imagined it.

“Do you love this man?” Severus asked mildly, and Draco nodded.

“I think I might,” he said with a small smile. “It's not quite _love-_ love, I don't think, but I care for him a great deal. He makes me feel good, and I do not mean just in a sexual way.”

“He makes you feel like yourself,” Severus filled in, and Draco nodded.

“Exactly,” he replied as he let go of Severus's hand and drew his knees to his chest. “I just...I _have_ to get back to him.”

Severus appeared thoughtful, but at the same time his expression seemed to have closed off. He opened his mouth to speak, but at the same moment the sudden sound of a door opening and then slamming shut drew Draco and Severus from their conversation. Draco felt his stomach flip over nervously, having an idea who it might be letting themselves in.

“Is it Potter?” Draco asked in a low whisper, and Severus inclined his head a little.

“Most likely. He's the only other person who knows where I am located, and the only one rude enough to barge in instead of knocking like a civilized person.” Severus paused, and stood up with a heavy sigh. “He will likely want to speak to you; shall I tell him that you are still asleep?”

“No,” Draco replied with a grimace. “He'll be as irritating as a hungry cat until I see him...I may as well get it out of the way.”

Severus nodded once, and without another word, he swept from the room.

 


	8. Purge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As of next week I will be back in school. While this shouldn't affect my updates at all, the date of posting might change again. So for right now, the next update will be January 26th, although it is subject to change, it will for sure not be any later than that. Thank you again to everyone who has given this fic a chance. I know this isn't the most popular ship out there, and so writing a large-scale story for it is a bit risky, but I am so happy that you guys are enjoying it :)
> 
>  **Possible Trigger Warning:** This chapter contains a short scene containing ableist language in relation to mental illness that may be upsetting to some readers.

Chapter Eight – Purge

 

Snape swept into the main area of the cottage, and already he looked furious. Harry wasn't certain what he could have done to piss him off this time, but he set his jaw, bracing himself for an argument.

“I want to see Malfoy, I have something for him,” Harry said quickly, and Snape arched a brow at him. He dug into his pocket and produced a slightly creased white envelope. “From his mum. She was practically having kittens when I told her that he'd been hurt. And this...” Harry dug into his pocket again, and produced a small paper bag, which he pushed into Snape's hands. “It's stuff I found in the pockets of Malfoy's jeans back at the motel. Pills, and some white powder.”

“The powder we can dispose of,” Snape replied distractedly as he opened the bag, pulled out the little plastic bag of powder, and vanished it with a quick flick of his wand. “The pills he will need to be weaned off of more slowly, or it will play havoc with his mind. Once he's clean, I can find a potions or legal muggle drug regimen for him...”

“ _More_ drugs?” Harry sputtered, “I thought we were trying to get him _off_ this stuff!”

“Do you know what is wrong with Draco?” Snape asked snidely, and Harry frowned at him. Did Snape think he was an idiot?

 _I already know the answer to that one,_ Harry thought sourly before he finally answered, “A drug addict,” Harry said at once, “I thought we'd been over this.”

“Beyond that, you little twerp,” Snape snapped. “He has depression and _severe_ anxiety, both of which are cured with therapy and drugs in the muggle world, or with potions and mind healers in the wizarding world. There is no singular cure in any society for such an illness. You yourself have known anguish that would break lesser men. You are mentally strong, where Draco is not. He cannot cope with all he must endure on his own, and he supplements his emptiness with drugs and men.”

“But everyone gets depressed sometimes,” Harry replied, his brow knitting with confusion, “why can't he just...get over it?”

Snape glared at him like he'd uttered some sort of horrible curse, and Harry's eyes widened in shock at the reaction. What did he do _this_ time?

“Do you know _nothing_ of how the mind works, Potter?” Snape demanded. Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Snape got there first. “Don't answer that. This is not something one simply _gets over,_ you stupid boy. It is a chemical imbalance within the brain, one which no muggle or wizard has come up with a permanent cure for yet. It is a _medical_ condition, not simply a state of mind.”

“I didn't know all that,” Harry mumbled shamefully, his gaze dropping to his feet.

“I assumed as much,” Snape replied impatiently. “All to the effect that we must first purge Draco's system of its poisons before we can help him. The lack of access to his amphetamines—”

“—his _what_?”

“Amphetamines, Potter! Amphetamines! The white powder I had in my hand not five minutes ago.”

“Oh.” Harry felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, and he gritted his teeth in annoyance. Did Snape always have to act like such a prat?

 _I already know the answer to that one, too,_ Harry thought sourly as he glared at his former professor.

“So...the plan is to get him clean, then put him on meds to make his brain work properly, is that it?”

“In essence, yes.”

“But won't he...like...get the shakes or something? I'm sure I read somewhere that people get really sick when their drugs are taken away.”

“Not this kind,” Snape replied in a much more patient tone of voice than Harry would have expected. “This purge is all in his mind—it will make him very depressed, and it will take him a long time to snap himself out of it. I can see about possibly brewing something to speed the process along somewhat, but I am reluctant to introduce anything to his system that might make things worse.”

“Is it really that sensitive...his system?” Harry asked uncertainly. He didn't want to get yelled at again, but he also wanted to know just how serious it was for Malfoy.

“Yes,” Snape replied without hesitation. “I do not think he himself realizes just how much damage he's done to himself. I must exercise extreme caution in what potions I administer to him...we need to keep his system as empty of potions and drugs as we can.”

There was an awkward pause, and Harry was uncertain what he could say to fill the silence. He wanted to see Malfoy, talk to him, if he'd let him, and in his pocket was a short letter from his mum that he had promised to deliver to him. He wanted—no, _needed_ to see Malfoy.

Harry moved to speak, but once again, Snape got there first.

“Take one of these to him,” he said as he shook one of the little pills out of the bag, and dropped it onto Harry's palm. “He needs to take them once a day for a fortnight, then I will lower the dosage slowly until he is weaned off them completely.”

“How come we can't just take him off cold turkey like with the other drugs?” Harry asked as he eyed the little pill uncertainly. It was entirely nondescript, and Harry doubted that he would ever be able to identify it without some sort of spell.

“We could, in theory, but I do not want to put his body and mind under more stress by doing so,” Snape replied, again in that strange, uncharacteristically patient tone of his. “Doing so would be like throwing his mind into an impenetrable fog. He will become easily confused, he will have difficulty controlling his impulses, and may say or do things that are out of character for him, or say things that are on his mind that he does not intend to say. His fatigue will also be increased, and it can be very stressful...I daresay he's been through quite enough hardship for one lifetime.”

Harry stared at Snape with confusion. He had no recollection of the man ever speaking this way—with a calm patience that did not befit the character that Harry knew. Irritable, snarky, sarcastic, and _mean_ Snape he could handle, but this _nicer_ version was an unknown. Harry had no idea what to do or how to react to him.

 _Unnerving_ did not even begin to cover it.

“Yeah,” he said at last, his gaze dropping to the pill in his hand. “He's suffered enough.”

 

~*~

 

Draco found his knees to be fascinating.

Really, any small thing that he could focus on was wonderful, but he liked his knees best. The dark blanket that covered him turned his legs into nothing more than an indent upon the blue surface, like a geometrical mountain or pyramid. It was simple. Innocuous. Not indicative that his life was literally crashing down around him.

Draco shut his eyes, and saw a flash. It lasted barely a second, but the mind-numbing fear that accompanied it told him that it was a memory of what had happened. The memories had been clawing at the edges of his mind ever since Severus had left him alone, and they appeared quite keen to bring themselves back into the conscious parts of his mind.

Draco shook his head violently, and shuddered.

He wouldn't remember. The evidence on his skin was more than enough to know how bad it had been. He _refused_ to relive any part of it. In this particular case, the absence of memory was a blessing, not a curse.

The low thrum of voices beyond his bedroom abruptly ceased, and after a moment of soft shuffling, Draco heard someone knock upon the door.

“Come in,” Draco called out, his voice unnervingly hoarse, and predictably Potter poked his head inside. He'd known that he was coming, but it did not make seeing him any easier.

Potter smiled weakly, Draco supposed in a way that he seemed to think was reassuring, but Draco did not find himself particularly _reassured_ by it. He stepped farther into the room, and Draco's eyes fell to Potter's hands. In them, he held two things—a goblet, and a tiny white speck upon his opposite palm.

“Er, Snape told me to give this to you,” Potter said uncertainly as he approached, and held out both items to him.

“Thank you,” Draco muttered, his eyes not quite able to meet the boy-hero's as he snatched the pill off Potter's palm and popped it into his mouth, then chased it down with water from the goblet. He did not miss the way Potter winced as he swallowed it, and he shot a glare at his former school rival. “What?”

“Nothing,” Potter said quickly, and plopped down next to him. Draco bit back a small groan. He'd rather hoped that Potter would be content with delivering his uppers and leaving, but apparently he wanted to _talk_.

“You don't have a _nothing_ face, Potter,” Draco replied dryly, “you have a _something_ face.”

“No, really,” Potter said, and shook his head. “Snape explained how some of these things you _need_ , and I just have a hard time believing it, that's all. I trust his judgment though, at least where this stuff is concerned, I figure he knows what he's talking about.”

“It is _beyond_ strange to hear you speak on Severus in a positive light,” Draco remarked as he eyed Potter, and the brunet's cheeks tinted a faint pink as he looked down at his knees, and Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise at the reaction.

_Well, that's certainly new._

“I like to think I've learnt to set aside our petty differences in order to help you,” Potter replied as he dug into his pocket and withdrew a creased envelope. “Erm, this is for you. I went to see your mum, and she wrote that for you.”

Draco paled, and stared at the envelope as though it had spontaneously grown teeth. Apparently sensing Draco's distress, Potter filled in the blanks.

“She doesn't know about your...er, _occupation_ or what happened specifically. I just told her you were physically assaulted, and laid up here,” Potter explained, and Draco felt himself sag slightly with relief. “She wanted to come herself, but your dad couldn't be moved, so I told her I'd relay messages between you two until you could come home.”

“Thank you,” Draco mumbled, unable to lift his voice to a louder volume. _Thanking_ Potter felt well and truly _beyond_ strange. “I...appreciate it.”

Draco accepted the envelope and slit it open. Inside, Draco found a letter of moderate length, composed in his mother's familiar, elegant hand.

 

_My Dearest Draco,_

_If Potter does as he promises he will and delivers this to you promptly, I will find myself both shocked and pleased. Perhaps this means he is truly trying to make amends for his indifference towards us following the war, though that may be deluded optimism on my part._

_When Potter told me of what happened, I am ashamed to say that I was not surprised. That is not to say that I suppose that you attract trouble, or instigate it, but Bad Luck seems to be our family's curse of late._

_I had hoped to come with Potter and sit at your bedside, but you understand better than most why I cannot do that. Your father needs my attention, and I know that you are in no danger under Severus's care._

_I wish you a speedy recovery, and please come home to us soon._

_Love,_

_Mother_

_P.S. I do not wish to give you false hope, but I took your father to his doctor recently, and his medications are being changed to something new and experimental. I do not have much faith that anything will improve, but perhaps our luck is finally turning round, and we shall see some semblance of your father return to us soon._

 

Draco lowered the letter into his lap, and gazed off into space. To most, it may have read as empty sentiment, but Draco knew better than that—such a letter from his mother was as good as ridiculous overstatements of love from many others. He curled his fingers around the flimsy paper, and it crackled in his tight grip as his mind fell to the postscript. Like his mother, he did not dare to trust a hope, but at the same time, he couldn't _not_ hope for his father to improve with this new medication. Really, only time would tell.

“Thank you,” Draco said once more, not quite able to look at Potter as he said it.

“How are you doing?” Potter asked awkwardly, and Draco finally glanced up at him. Potter's expression was, if possible, even more awkward that his. Potter was gazing down at his knees and shifting uncomfortably, his face tinted a faint pink. Draco couldn't work out if Potter was uncomfortable speaking to him because of his line of work, or because of what Severus told him had happened.

“How do you _think_ I'm doing, Potter?” Draco asked acidly, and Potter winced. “I can't remember any of what's happened, and the possibility of remembering it is hanging over my head like some sort of guillotine. Severus plans to cut me off of my supply because it's _good for me_ , and I have no way of contacting my...” Draco trailed off and shook his head. His mobile was gone, and he had no way of contacting Schroeder. What would he think, when Draco did not contact him? The idea that he might drop Draco, or leave England without saying goodbye cut like a knife.

“Who do you want to contact?” Potter asked immediately, “maybe I could—”

“—no,” Draco interrupted. “It's no one.”

“Malfoy, I want to help,” Potter said pleadingly, “who is it? I'll get a message to them for you.”

“Leave it, Potter,” Draco said in his most menacing tone, and Potter sagged despondently. He looked at that moment very much like a puppy that had been scolded, and it tugged at Draco's heart in a most unpleasant way. He heaved a sigh, and lifted a hand to rake it through his hair in frustration.

“Why won't you let me help?” Potter asked, his voice desperate, and very close to the whine of a petulant child. Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“Because I don't _need_ your help,” Draco responded with something close to a growl. “We've been over this. Just leave me alone.”

His shoulders sagging sadly, Potter got up and shuffled towards the door. Once it closed behind him, Draco let out a soft sigh of relief. Peace, at last.

 

“ _Oh there's nothing sexier than a pretty-boy when he cries...”_

“ _Why is he crying anyway? Hey, slut, why you cryin'? We seen you out on them street corners pedalling yer arse, we know you like this.”_

“ _I don't think he's gonna answer you, Rick...”_

“ _Gonna have to teach 'im a lesson, haven't I?”_

 

Draco awoke suddenly, a scream caught in his throat. He looked around wildly, but found himself alone in the room. He let out a small sigh of relief, and slumped back against the pillows.

 _I think Severus may have understated my encounter, so to speak..._ Draco thought as he lay there, the memories of the dream clear and sharp in his mind. He shivered.

Draco pushed the memories away, and clenched his eyes shut, but not before a stray tear escaped from his eye and stained his cheek.

 _I'm broken_ , Draco thought, _if Schroeder finds out what happened, will he even want me anymore?_

The idea of being left alone again assaulted Draco's mind, and he tugged the blanket up to his chin as he began to shiver. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something on his night table, and turned to see a tray leaden with a thin soup and dry toast.

Draco's stomach turned at the thought of food, and with a small groan, he rolled over to face away from it, but that only succeeded in putting pressure on one of his head wounds. With a frustrated huff, he repositioned himself on his back, and stared despondently up at the ceiling.

Suddenly, the doorknob rattled and creaked open. A narrow beam of wandlight filtered into the room, and Draco turned a little to see Severus stepping inside, a dark dressing gown pulled over his flimsy grey nightshirt.

“I heard you fidgeting,” Severus said, his voice a little hoarse in a way that told Draco he had likely just woken up. “Are you all right?”

“As well as can be expected,” Draco muttered, not quite able to look at the older man as he eased down on the chair next to his bed. “I just wish you'd give me something for the nightmares.”

“You had a nightmare about your experience?” Severus asked, and Draco nodded. “What did you see?”

“Nothing, just voices,” Draco replied, and shivered. “You didn't tell me it was more than one person.”

“I saw no reason to traumatize you further with such information,” Severus said as he reached for one of Draco's hands, and clasped it gently. “You've been through quite enough hardship for one lifetime, I think.”

Draco sniffed sharply, and pulled away from Severus to wipe his eyes. Severus did not move, but watched him try to pull himself together silently. He did not miss the way Severus seemed to be trying to drink in every detail of him, and Draco shivered involuntarily. Would Severus ask for his body in recompense for caring for him? Draco never pegged Severus for being _that_ cruel.

“You still should have told me that I wasn't just raped, but _gang_ raped,” Draco replied softly. “It seems to me like something of an important detail.”

“I'm trying to help you, Draco,” Severus said in that same gentle tone while he averted his gaze from Draco and focused his dark eyes on the untouched food upon his bedside table. “I was afraid of sharing with you more information that I thought you could handle. Making you relive the rape in its entirety seemed cruel and unnecessary.”

Draco buried his face in his hands, and huffed a frustrated sigh. His shaking hands moved to his hair, and he stared across the room, away from Severus as he tried to organize his thoughts.

“I wish you could just wave your wand and make it all disappear. I don't _want_ this. I just want it to be _over_.”

Severus reached for him again, and closed both his hands over one of Draco's. His thumb brushed across the back of Draco's hand, making him shiver.

“Give it time, Draco,” Severus said gently, consolingly. “One day, it _will_ be.”

 


	9. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: For the foreseeable future (til about mid-May or so) I will be posting on Thursdays, so this is the LAST early update, and the next one will be on February 1st. Enjoy!

Chapter Nine – Discovery

 

Harry had always been told that he was never the most observant person in the world.

However, people (namely two Slytherins who he had been spending an inordinate amount of time with lately) seemed to always forget that despite that, he wasn't stupid, and he knew when something was going on.

And something was _definitely_ going on.

Trouble was, Harry had yet to work out _what_.

For the past week, Harry had been trying—with little success—to befriend Malfoy. It seemed the thing to do, since it had been his lack of interference that had gotten Malfoy into this mess in the first place.

In true Malfoy fashion however, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Harry, and rejected all of Harry's attempts out of hand. In point of fact, it was something of a miracle that Malfoy was still allowing him in his recovery room at _all._

Added to that, something seemed to be going on between Snape and Malfoy. It wasn't in what they said or did, but more in small actions that Harry noticed from time to time whenever he popped by to check on how Malfoy was doing, and play owl if he had any messages to send to his mother.

A look here, a glance there, Snape's attentiveness to Malfoy's _every_ need, it made one thing perfectly clear—Snape _wanted_ Malfoy.

The idea made Harry angry, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly _why._ They had history, it was a given that Snape would treat Malfoy with some level of decency, but something about it just rubbed Harry the wrong way.

_I'm just overthinking it_ , Harry thought as he Disapparated from Snape's cottage and headed home for the evening a fortnight later, _there's probably nothing going in between them...I'm just being paranoid._

_But paranoid of what?_ Harry wondered suddenly. _Paranoid that Snape might take advantage of Malfoy, or paranoid_ because _Snape will take advantage of Malfoy?_

Harry scowled, and made the trip home. He knew that logically he had no reason to be jealous of either of them—if it happened, it happened. They both had had hard lives, and they deserved a little happiness. And if they found it in each other, well...

The door of Harry's flat rattled in its frame, and Harry blinked with confusion. He quickly got his magic under control, and the shaking stopped. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd nearly lost control like that, nor indeed _why_ he seemed on the cusp of losing control so often lately.

“Might be a mystery for another day...” Harry muttered to himself as he headed inside and made for the kitchen, positively _dying_ for a cuppa.

 

Five minutes later, with a steaming cup in one hand, and a plate of biscuits in the other, Harry had barely sat down in his favourite armchair when a sharp rapping sounded from his front door, and he groaned.

“Can't I have five bloody-fucking-goddamn minutes to myself?” he hissed as he got up, abandoning his tea and biscuits, and headed back to the front door. He peeped through the hole, and winced when he saw Hermione and Ron standing on the other side.

Bracing himself for the worst, Harry took a breath and tugged open the door.

“Harry!” Hermione chirped happily while she eyed him with an apologetic look, “you're home!”

“For the moment,” Harry groused, but pushed back his frustration as he stepped aside to admit them. “C'min. Want anything? I was just sitting down to a cuppa tea.”

“I wouldn't say no to tea,” Hermione said with that same false cheeriness that immediately put Harry on edge. _What was she up to?_

Harry made tea for his two friends, and after taking a moment to himself to brace for whatever was coming, he turned and headed back for his little sitting room.

Both Ron and Hermione suddenly stopped speaking the moment he stepped over to them, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“What?” Hermione asked innocently as she accepted the mug from Harry, and Harry narrowed his eyes again.

“You know what,” Harry replied. “You don't fool me, what are you two up to?”

“Can't we just come by, unannounced, and have a nice cuppa tea with our best mate?” Ron asked, his voice so similar to Hermione's that he had to laugh.

“When you two depraved sex fiends could be at your own flat, shagging each other senseless?”

Hermione flushed a deep red at that, and Ron snorted. It wasn't as though they could deny it either, Harry had walked in on them enough times that he was permanently scarred for life.

“It's just that we're worried, mate,” Ron said with a small frown. “We've hardly seen you for the last fortnight, and all you'll tell us is you're _busy._ You've never kept secrets before, what is it that you're hiding that could be so bad that you can't tell _us_?”

“It's not _bad_ , exactly,” Harry explained as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “it's just...delicate.”

“Delicate,” Hermione repeated, and Harry nodded. Her eyes widened, and Harry nodded again to confirm with her that he was indeed talking about Malfoy. As nonchalantly as he could he jerked his head towards Ron, who was busy with his tea, and made a minute slicing motion at his throat as though to say _don't tell him_. 

“Yeah,” Harry replied at last, “it's...er...sort of classified Auror stuff. A charge of mine got hurt when I was supposed to be protecting him, and I've been busy helping him recuperate...”

“ _Him_?” Hermione asked, and arched a brow at him. “If it's _just Auror stuff,_ then why are you blushing?”

“I am _not_ ,” Harry replied heatedly, and his friends exchanged a look. “I'm _not_ ,” he repeated, “it's just...” he trailed off and heaved a sigh. How could he explain it without telling them—Ron in particular—who he'd been with? He couldn't picture _any_ scenario where Ron would wholeheartedly approve of him spending so much time with Malfoy _and_ Snape.

“It's a sensitive subject,” Harry said at last, and hid his face behind his mug. “I'm being blamed for what's happened, and I'm trying to fix it, but somehow keep mucking it up...It's like fighting a forest fire with petrol.”

“And you absolutely _can't_ tell us what this is about?” Hermione asked curiously, and Harry immediately shook his head.

“I really can't, I'm sorry. I was explicitly told to tell no one what was going on.”

“But we're your _friends_ ,” Ron protested, his eyes widening a little. “You can tell _us_. It's not like we'd go running to the _Daily Prophet_ and tell them...”

“And this is my _job,_ Ron,” Harry replied tersely, “I can't just tell you everything that's going on, sometimes I actually _can't_ , like right now.”

“We were just worried, that's all,” Hermione said quickly when Ron opened his mouth to argue. “But you're all right, though? You're not putting too much stress on yourself over...whatever?”

Harry smiled weakly, and just barely managed to hold back a hysterical laugh. _No, not stressful at all._

“I'm fine, Hermione,” Harry said, and his friend's face relaxed into a warm smile.

“Good.”

 

~*~

 

Something about leaving his bed felt strangely _wrong,_ though Draco could not articulate why.

He that knew his legs worked fine, and his concussion had healed enough that he could get up if he wished, but something about the idea of actually _leaving_ the bed left Draco feeling utterly terrified.

And, of course, Severus was quick to point this out.

“All of your physical injuries have healed, Draco,” he said in a bland, unassuming drawl and made Draco shiver nervously. “Is there any particular reason why you are still bed-bound? You could go _home,_ see your mother and father...and your lover.”

Draco frowned at the slight sneer in the older man's voice.

“You disapprove of my lover?” Draco asked mildly, and Severus's frown deepened.

“I think you are worth more than a wad of bills,” Severus said simply. “I am certain that he treats you well enough, but I wish you had more self-respect than this willingness to sell your body to any man willing to pay.”

“Desperate times called for desperate measures,” Draco replied sourly as he crossed his arms and leant back against his pillow. “I'm not ashamed of being a sex worker, Severus, I'm _good_ at what I do. Why should it be a source of shame when I excel at it?”

“Because these men do not respect _you,_ ” Severus said as he sat down on the edge of Draco's bed and gazed at him with more emotion than he had ever seen the older man exhibit before. “If you wish to continue working in the sex industry, I could always find a brothel for you, but this...it's more harmful to yourself than I think you realize, Draco.”

“It's not like it matters,” Draco muttered as he crossed his arms. “I have my _daddy_ , I haven't seen another client in ages, thankfully. _He_ treats me well, regardless what you think.”

The word _daddy_ seemed to have the strangest effect on Severus, and a flash of arousal seemed to flicker across his face, but it was gone so quickly that Draco wondered if he might have imagined it. Severus appeared to be mildly flustered, and Draco stared at him bemusedly, wondering if he might explain himself.

“Does he, Draco?” Severus asked with an arched brow, “does he treat you like you should be treated? Like a human, deserving of respect and dignity?”

“He does,” Draco confirmed with a small nod. “I thought we'd been over this. He takes me nice places, buys me nice things, then takes me back to his hotel room and shags me senseless. It feels _amazing_ to be with him. And...” Draco paused, and focused his attention on Severus fully, determined to not miss any reaction this time. “...He likes it when I call him _daddy_.”

There was no mistaking it this time, the word was _definitely_ having an effect on Severus. Twin spots of faint pink tinged his cheeks, and he shifted in his seat in a way that was indicative of hiding an erection.

In point of fact, his methods for hiding this, paired with his facial reactions were _very_ familiar. Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but aside from the small tell, Severus showed no outward sign that anything was wrong.

Ignoring the alarm bells in his head telling him to stay where he was, Draco pushed back the covers, and crawled across the duvet and towards Severus. He watched Draco's progression, but did not move, and merely arched an eyebrow at Draco in challenge.

Draco stopped only when he was close enough to Severus to feel his body heat, and after licking his lips once, he leant in close and whispered a single word in the older man's ear.

“ _Daddy_.”

Severus's gaze whipped to him, his eyes narrowed, and his hands fell to Draco's wrists, stilling his movements.

“Don't push me, Draco,” Severus growled, “you may not like the result.”

“I'd never do something so stupid,” Draco purred, inching closer until his lips were less than an inch from Severus's. “I am merely acting on a suspicion, one that I am certain is correct.”

“And what might this suspicion be?” Severus purred in a sinful velvet tone that seemed to fill Draco with a strong heat of desire.

“You, Severus Snape, are my mysterious _Mr Schroeder_.”

“Ridiculous,” Severus replied, but did not move. “Would I really don the guise of a rich muggle, learn to drive, buy myself an expensive car, and demand your time all to myself, just to keep you out of the arms of lesser men who do not deserve you?”

“Yes.”

“Smart boy.”

Severus's hand moved to the side of Draco's neck, his fingertips just barely brushing the line of his jaw. Draco shivered with anticipation as he inhaled sharply, and thin, warm lips covered his own.

Severus kissed just like his muggle counterpart—with an expertise that left Draco breathless. He moaned into the kiss and shuffled forward, all but straddling the man as he reached up to twine his fingers through his hair.

“My beautiful boy...” Severus murmured reverently before he kissed him again. His hands moved to Draco's waist, and he tugged the younger man the rest of the way into his lap. “You are so lovely, and I had intended only to do it out of necessity, I never expected to fall in love with you...”

“I have been in love with you since that night you took me to see _Hamlet_ ,” Draco murmured. “I'm just so glad that it's _you_ , and I don't need to worry anymore than you'll leave suddenly for Germany...”

“I am sorry for deceiving you—” Severus began, but Draco's fingers over his lips silenced the older man.

“No,” Draco replied with a small shake of his head. “I understand why you did it, and I can forgive it. I have seen the way you look at me, and now it makes sense, because you _never_ looked at me that way before. Maybe we're rushing things, but I don't find myself caring all that much. I _want_ you, Severus Snape.”

“Considering what just happened to you, it would be remiss of me to not say that we need to slow down,” Severus said as he gently traced the shape of Draco's face with his fingertips. He kissed Draco again, and Draco whimpered softly. “You are so lovely, my beautiful boy, I fear breaking you by taking you to bed too soon.”

“I'm not made of glass, Severus, and you're not _them_. I know the difference.”

“You may, but your mind may not see the distinction,” Severus replied as he pecked Draco's lips lightly. “One wrong move on my part may bring back all the memories you are trying to not think on.”

The prospect of that was enough to give Draco pause. His arms were still linked around Severus's neck,  but he bit his lip and tried to swallow the sudden nervousness that bubbled in his chest. Severus arched a brow at him, and Draco shifted nervously.

“That is exactly my point,” Severus said as he drew Draco in for another gentle kiss. “Regardless what ridiculous negative opinions the wizarding world has of me, I am not the embodiment of evil that they paint me as. I do not wish to hurt you.”

“The wizarding world at large would never care to know you, not how I do,” Draco murmured as he leant in for another kiss. “Even being out of the world as long as I have, that seems like the sort of thing they would do.”

“Your stint within the muggle world certainly has not affected your intelligence,” Severus replied in a similar tone, “You are still one of the brightest wizards I have ever known.”

Draco smiled at the compliment, and instead of answering verbally, he leant in to kiss Severus again. It was thrilling, and all-encompassing. Severus kissed the way he brewed potions—with all his focus trained upon the task, and it made Draco feel like the only other person in the universe. Severus smelt of sandalwood and pickling brine, and though the combination of the odours should have been unpleasant, instead it was _wonderful_. His hair, now flecked with grey, twined through Draco's fingers, and was soft and silky—quite a departure from how it had appeared back in Draco's schooldays.

When they broke the kiss, Draco wrapped his arms around Severus and embraced him like a child might embrace a parent.

“Whatever happens, please don't let me go,” Draco murmured softly. “I don't think I can do this without you.”

A large hand moved to his back and rubbed gently.

“Never,” Severus murmured as he planted a kiss to Draco's temple. “I will get you through this, and make sure you come out the other side whole and well. That is a promise.”

“Severus...” Draco's voice escaped him closer to a whine, and his hold on the older man tightened slightly.

“Shh, shh, my Draco, just relax. I will not harm you...”

“Everything good that I have ever had I've lost,” Draco replied, his face still more or less buried in the crook of the older man's neck. “How do I know that I will not lose you too?”

“When I see what I want, I take it,” Severus murmured, “I have no pesky morals telling me what I shouldn't want or cannot have. If something tries to come between us, I will have no qualms about hexing that thing to Kingdom Come.”

“I have spent the last fortnight proclaiming that I need no help,” Draco said, his fingers tracing the outline of Severus's jaw as he spoke, “but perhaps that wasn't entirely the truth. I am finding that perhaps I _do_ need help...I want...if this thing between us is as real as it feels...I want to be able to be whole, for you.”

“And that is your true wish, Draco?” Severus asked as he arched a brow, “do you wish to be whole, or are you merely relying on _me_ instead of your drugs?”

“I...” Draco trailed off, and bit his lip nervously. _Was_ he just using Severus? He wasn't certain. He looked over the older man, his stony, inquiring expression never wavering, and something about it gave Draco pause. He could not be certain, but something told him that Severus was retreating within himself to brace for some sort of emotional blow.

“I don't know,” he said at last, and frowned apologetically at Severus. “It's confusing. I want you to catch me as I fall, and I know that I care for you, but I don't know if I'm using you.”

Severus lifted his hand to Draco's hair and stroked the blond locks gently. It felt nice, comforting. Draco shut his eyes and leant into the touch while he tried to ignore the swell of anguish that had settled itself in his chest.

At the same moment however, Draco heard a sharp intake of breath from the doorway of his bedroom, and Draco cursed under his breath. He forced his eyes opened and turned around, still perched in Severus's lap. Predictably, Potter stood there, his eyes wide, and the look of horror upon his face was not unlike someone who had stumbled upon a murder scene.

“Can we help you, Potter?” Draco drawled in a tone very close to his old confident voice, and he felt a strange sense of triumph wash over him as he watched the brunet turn and bolt from the cottage, the front door slamming distantly, a little harder than necessary in his haste.

When Draco turned back around, he saw Severus pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, and Draco's smile dimmed a little. Had that remark been wrong?

“Severus?” Draco asked uncertainly, and the older man shook his head.

“It is nothing, Draco,” Severus said as he pecked his lips lightly in reassurance, but something of the older man's expression told Draco that it was far from _nothing_. “Just stay here, I will go see what has our little Gryffindor pest in such a state.”

Draco frowned a little, not keen to be parted from Severus, but nodded nonetheless as he let the older man help him back into bed. He curled up under the duvet and watched Severus stride from the room with a lazy smile on his face, and when he disappeared into the hallway, Draco buried his face into his pillow to hide his giddy smile.


	10. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be Thursday, February 8th. Enjoy!

Chapter Ten – Jealousy

 

Harry did not stop moving until he made it back outside of the cottage, but despite the short length of his run, he was breathing so hard it was as though he'd been running for hours.

_What is Snape thinking, touching Malfoy like that?_

_What is_ Malfoy _thinking, letting him do it?_

Harry shivered from both cold and an unidentifiable emotion—disgust or anguish, he wasn't sure—and clenched his eyes shut. More than the questionable actions of both men, the sight of them together made Harry want to _break_ something.

_It's just because I know that Malfoy is still recovering,_ Harry thought as he stood there in the chill of early spring still clinging desperately to winter, _I'm angry because Snape is taking advantage of him...yeah, that has to be it._

Harry didn't dare entertain the other possibility hanging about at the back of his mind. He wasn't jealous—he _wasn't_.

“Sod it all, they obviously don't need me here,” Harry grumbled as he straightened up, “might as well—”

“Leaving so soon, Potter?” a sleek, velvet-smooth voice asked suddenly, causing Harry to whip around and glare at the older man who was now striding towards him. “Without even saying goodbye? Where _are_ your manners? One might think you were raised in a barn.” The faint smirk upon Snape's face widened a little. “Of course, _I_ know better. I know full-well that you were raised in a cup—”

“— _don't_ say it,” Harry growled. “I'll just be taking my leave. Obviously my presence is not wanted here. Fuck, I _try_ to make amends, but then I forgot who the hell I was dealing with. Don't worry, I might be a glutton for punishment, but after growing up with the Dursleys, I know when my presence is _really_ not wanted. I'll go, you'll not see me again.”

“I never said any such thing, you realize,” Snape replied smoothly while he took another step forward. Harry felt his heart jump into his throat, and he mirrored the older man by taking a large step back. “It was Draco—his bitterness, and his anger, that wished to drive you away, not me.”

“So you're saying _you,_ who made no secret of your absolute hatred for me, do not _actually_ hate me?” Harry asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he spoke.

Snape smirked, and took another step forward. Harry's heart beat wildly in his chest, but his legs seemed to have frozen in place, and he did not step back.

“I did not say that, either,” Snape purred, and the low, sultry tone made Harry shiver.

“Then—then what _are_ you saying?”

“You are the Auror, Mr Potter,” Snape replied smoothly, “it is your job to suss out the motives of a dark wizard. You tell me.”

“You're not a dark wizard,” Harry replied on reflex, and Snape chuckled.

“How kind of you to say,” he said, a note of sarcasm in his voice. “You are avoiding the subject at hand. Tell me, what _am_ I saying?”

Harry knew, but he wasn't about to say it.

He could see it, hell, he could practically _smell_ it. But he had seen Snape snogging and snuggling with Malfoy not five minutes earlier, he wasn't about to suggest what he _thought_ Snape was insinuating. He doubted Malfoy would be able to handle it if something got between him and his beloved Potions Master.

“No,” Harry said at last, and shook his head. “I'm not going to let you drag me into this twisted... _thing_. You have fun with your ward.”

Harry turned and ran from the property. When he finally cleared the treeline, he Disapparated.

 

Harry reappeared just outside his flat's building, and raced inside. By the time he'd made it up to his front door, his heart was still throbbing in his ears, and he could smell the fearful stink of sweat clinging to his skin. He was breathing hard, his eyes were wide, and his mind was going a mile a minute as he tried to absorb what had just happened.

_Why did Snape do that?_

Harry came to no answers as he shakily tugged his bottle of firewhisky from his liquor cabinet, and summoned a glass from his kitchen.

_Clearly he doesn't understand romantic loyalties, if he's going after me thirty seconds after I saw him with Malfoy, but there's still the question of why he'd go for_ me _to begin with. He hates me._

_Obviously he doesn't hate me_ that _much if he's trying to chat me up or seduce me or whatever he was doing..._

Harry shook his head sharply, his eyes clenched shut. That train of thought was _not_ helping.

_I need help,_ Harry thought as he uncorked the bottle and took a swig of it, the glass abandoned. He flicked his wand again, this time summoning parchment, ink, and a quill. He needed the help of the smartest person that he knew, and maybe, if nothing else, she might be able to shed some sort of light on whatever was happening between the three of them.

 

~*~

 

Draco lay in bed, basking in the phantom sensation of Severus's mouth on his own while he listened to the older man argue with Potter from outside. They were too far for Draco to hear the specifics of their argument, but Draco could imagine easily enough that Saint Potter disapproved of the way Severus was _handling_ him.

At the mere thought, he rolled his eyes. Potter had such a narrow view of sexuality, the idea of what he might get up to made made Draco so painfully _bored._

And a little bit aroused, but only a _little_ bit.

_He probably blushes his way through the whole thing and says sorry every fifteen seconds..._ Draco thought, and laughed to himself.

Draco rolled onto his back, and stared at the ceiling as he continued to think and ponder through the soft sounds of Severus and Potter's argument.

_Potter's not unattractive, and he_ has _been spending a lot of time with Severus, interfering with my life, so maybe..._

The thought trailed off and he laughed again.

_It would snow in Hades before Potter would ever find himself attracted to a Slytherin, much less admit to such a thing._

A soft, muffled _crack_ signalled Potter (presumably, though Draco had no way to be certain) Disapparating, and a moment later he heard the cottage door open again. Draco sat up, and smiled as he listened to the soft sound of Severus approaching his room before at last letting himself in. He was smirking with amusement, as though he'd been witness to the funniest joke in the world, and he strode towards Draco, his head held high with pride.

“Good argument?” Draco asked teasingly as Severus sat down on the edge of the bed, then bent forward to kiss him lightly.

“Hmm,” he replied with a faint nod. “It would seem our fair hero has a little crush, not that he knows what to do with it. He seems to think that he'd be coming between us, but I'd rather us cum between _you,_ if you catch my meaning.”

Draco moaned out loud, and trailed off to a hysterical giggle as he sat up to kiss Severus again.

“He is annoying, but not unattractive...I wouldn't protest, were it to happen. Which of us does he have the crush on?”

“Both, I think, but more you than me,” Severus replied as he leant in for another kiss. “He was raised by muggles, and certainly not the kind that are _worth_ knowing, I assure you. They were rather closed-minded, and if Potter got any sort of sexual education from them I would be _genuinely_ surprised. I doubt the idea of a relationship with more than one person at a time would even enter his mind.”

“Hmm, _scandalous_ ,” Draco remarked as he reached for Severus's hand. Their fingers twined together, and he smiled down at the interlocked digits. “I'm not sure how I feel about Potter having a crush on me, it might just be his hero complex in overdrive, you realize.”

“That thought _had_ occurred to me, but no, there's just something...” Severus trailed off, cradling his chin thoughtfully as he sat there. “I can't explain it, but I am certain that it goes well beyond that ridiculous hero complex of his.”

“Sounds like Potter isn't the _only_ one with a crush,” Draco remarked teasingly, and chuckled when Severus answered with a glare. “Oh, don't look like that. He _is_ handsome, so I can't really fault you for that. Although if you make us fight for your affections, I will _not_ be pleased, Severus. He is a whiny little thing, but when it comes to the fighting, he has an irritating tendency to win.”

“Were I to do something so gauche, there would be some kind of oil involved, and you would both be naked,” Severus replied smoothly, and Draco let out a low moan.

“Now you have _me_ thinking of Naked Potter too,” Draco replied with a groan as he leant back against his pillows. “That's cheating.”

“Well, at least I have your mind focused on something positive,” Severus remarked, and Draco snorted.

“That's debatable,” he replied with a derisive snort. “Potter attracts trouble like flies to rotting meat. Aligning ourselves with him in any capacity might be a recipe for trouble.”

“Apologies,” Severus said, though he did not sound very apologetic. “I am afraid that the thought of two ripe bodies in my bed instead of just one is making it a little difficult to focus.”

“And at last Severus Snape reveals his Achilles Heel—it is not love, or desire for power, but two young men in his bed.” Draco smirked, and Severus frowned at him.

“You make me sound like an old pervert—you are both of age, and you seem to have no complaints about kissing _me_. Besides, you can't curse a man for dreaming.”

“You _are_ an old pervert,” Draco reminded him, “but the sophisticated kind, with a sexy voice, sharp wit, and intelligence beyond many in your age bracket. Not to mention your habit of being my knight in shining armour. I owe you my life, Severus.”

“One thing you and Potter share,” Severus said as a hand went to the young man's hair and carded through it gently, “you _both_ have a certain knack for finding trouble.”

“At least _my_ particular brand of trouble isn't usually life-threatening,” Draco replied sourly. “And most of my _trouble_ is his fault to begin with.”

“Of course,” Severus replied sarcastically, and Draco snorted. “I will just forget all those particularly idiotic schemes of your youth that you employed in an effort to bring Potter and his little friends down, shall I?”

“Severus, be a dear and shut up,” Draco replied with a yawn as he eased back against the pillows more securely and shut his eyes, the fingers tickling through his hair effectively relaxing him until every bone in his body felt like it was made of jelly.

He heard Severus chuckle, and the weight of him began to lift from the bed. In a move born of his long-dormant Seeker skills, Draco reached out and caught Severus's wrist as he cracked his eyes open.

“I didn't say _go_ ,” he said, “lie with me a while?”

“You are by far the most demanding house guest I have ever had,” Severus said, but did not protest as he eased down onto the narrow bed next to Draco, and wrapped one arm around his middle. Draco tugged out the duvet from under the older man and pulled it over them as he shuffled closer to his lover, and smiled when he felt a gentle kiss tickle the back of his neck.

“Rest now, my beautiful boy,” Severus murmured, “when you wake, I will see about finding a suitable drug regimen for you.”

“Drugs _and_ a lover,” Draco purred. “ _Heaven_.”

“Not _those_ kinds of drugs, you ridiculous young man,” Severus reminded him sternly.

“I know, but a boy can dream.”


	11. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be February 15th. 
> 
> **Possible Trigger Warning:** This chapter contains references to addiction that may be difficult for recovering drug addicts to read. Reader discretion is advised. (In the second half, if you're watching out for it)

Chapter Eleven – Guilt

 

It had been a full fortnight since Harry's dramatic exit from Snape's little cottage, and in that time he had not heard from either him or Malfoy once.

_They must be enjoying their honeymoon_... Harry thought sourly as he entered his office that muggy Monday morning, and shook his head a little. _Whatever. I don't care. I don't care that they have each other, and I have no one. I just...I don't care._

Harry wished that his thoughts felt more true. At the very back of his mind along with his burning jealousy at the ides of them together was a cache of memories of his recent dreams that he point-blank _refused_ to think on, or even try to theorize.

For starters, there was _no way_ Snape or Malfoy were that well-endowed.

As an added bonus, there was _absolutely_ no way Malfoy would lie back and hand over the reigns to anyone, least of all _him._

Regardless what his dreams said, Harry had always been convinced that Malfoy would be a power bottom, instructing his partner on how to move and what to do, or perhaps riding him to some sort of orgasm version of heaven.

Not that Harry had spent the better part of the last fortnight thinking about such a thing, or what it would feel like to have Snape top him while he pounded Malfoy's arse into oblivion.

 

Harry shook his head sharply in an effort to snap himself out of his sexy daydreams, but it didn't feel like it helped very much.

“I need to stop thinking about this,” Harry muttered to himself as pulled a thick folder of the day's preliminary reports towards him, the dry paperwork that he needed to do before he could head out into the field. “I can't go down that road with either of them...it's not right.”

Determined to flush his mind of any thoughts of the two former Slytherins, Harry glared down at the reports as he finally got to work.

 

By lunchtime, Harry was quite proud of the fact that he'd managed to more or less stay on task and not think on Malfoy or Snape (or his subconscious's generous endowments for either of them) at all. Luckily, the reports had taken up all of his focus, and his stubborn determination to think on nothing else meant that he zipped through them, leaving his whole afternoon open to field work, which was nothing short of a blessing.

Harry was beginning to ponder where to go for lunch  as he sent off the reports to his supervisor when someone suddenly knocked on his door, and he glanced up to see Hermione poking her head inside.

“Hey,” Harry said as he straightened up and brushed his robes off absentmindedly. “Everything all right? You look worried.”

“I got your letter,” she said by way of explanation, and Harry inclined his head a little, suddenly understanding why she had adopted such a cryptic tone. “Fancy going out to lunch at the Leaky, in a private room again?”

“Yeah, all right,” he replied, feeling a wave of relief wash over him when he managed to keep his voice steady. Hermione's tone and words were making him more than a little nervous, and he hoped that it was paranoia, and nothing bad had happened.

Though somehow, he doubted it.

 

Harry followed Hermione out of the office, down to the Atrium, and to the Floo in silence. His mind was too big of a mess of nerves to offer up any sort of conversation with her. Between Malfoy, and Snape, and Malfoy's recovering drug habit and what had happened to him, it was all too much to form into some sort of coherent thought. What was right, and what was wrong? Harry didn't know anymore.

When they finally sat down in the pub, plates of steak and kidney pie and tankards of butterbeer between them, Hermione took to casting the privacy charms before Harry had a chance to. She then began to speak before Harry had even finished formulating some sort of conversation starter, but his amusement at her habit of taking the lead died the moment he realized that she was looking at him with  a dire look of warning in her eyes.

“Before we get into the details of you letter, Harry, I think you should know that I think it was tampered with,” Hermione said in a rush, her eyes a little wide. Harry blinked in confusion, the words not really processing with him immediately as Hermione spoke.

“What?” he asked lamely, “how? Who?”

“All very good questions,” she replied darkly, and frowned. “I think it may have been Ron, but I have no proof of that beyond a few weird, offhanded remarks he's made lately—wondering what Malfoy's been up to lately, and wondering out loud why you won't find a partner for yourself, and jokingly began to speculate that maybe you _were_ interested in someone, but it was someone we'd disapprove of.”

“But why would _Ron_ tamper with your post?” Harry asked, hissing the question at her, despite the privacy warding that surrounded them, for the moment dismissing the notion that Ron seemed to think he _fancied_ Malfoy. That wasn't even a little bit true.

“I don't think it's as dark as you might be thinking, more a curiosity thing?” Hermione suggested uncertainly. “I mean, we _do_ share everything—well, _almost_ everything, and he's terrible for peeking round the hols...he's probably just curious or something. Either way, he hasn't confronted me about it.”

“Well, keep an eye on him, please?” Harry begged, uncaring what sort of insight into his true feelings Hermione might glean from his words. “Malfoy doesn't need Ron hunting him down and harassing him.”

“Of course, Harry,” Hermione replied, and offered him a small, reassuring smile. “Now about your letter...you said a lot of stuff in it, and you mentioned that you were hoping you and Snape could convince Malfoy to stop his sex work, help him get off the drugs, but then you caught them snogging and then Snape came on to you? Is that everything?”

“More or less,” Harry replied with a slight shrug. “I mean, it's hard to look at Malfoy and not...” Harry felt his cheeks flush a deep crimson as he glanced away from his friend. “And I feel like such scum, because I helped him get away from those disgusting excuses for human beings, and I just can't stop thinking how attractive he is, and how...” Harry trailed off and shook his head. “And then Snape just swans in and takes advantage of Malfoy being all bedridden, I mean, _how_ is that okay? And I mean, thirty seconds later, he's chatting _me_ up in his front garden, like nothing happened!”

“Well, Harry, I'm wondering if nothing _did_ happen,” Hermione said, and Harry stared at her with disbelief.

“I saw them _snogging_ , Hermione. Something definitely happened.”

“That's not really what I mean,” Hermione replied as she chewed on the side of her lip thoughtfully. “I mean, in Snape's mind, he may not have seen it as a bad thing.”

“So he's a cheater?”

“More likely he's polyamorous.”

“Poly-what?” Harry blinked, and racked his brain as he tried to remember the definition. “Isn't that that thing in muggle advanced maths—”

“That's _polynomial,_ Harry.”

“Oh, wait, I know, it's when you believe in more than one god—”

“That's _polytheistic_.” Hermione giggled a little and shook her head. “Polyamory is when you go into a relationship with more than one person; usually three in a triad. In ancient times, it was quite a common practice in pureblood wizarding culture. Usually it was one woman and two men, or two women and one man, to ensure that there would be heirs, but later on it became just as common to be three men or three women. Not everyone is cut out for that kind of a lifestyle, but some people, both wizard and muggle, believe that humans are not meant to be monogamous, and they feel that some sort of multi-person arrangement is better.”

“So you think that Snape is into this poly thing, and he is interested in _both_ me and Malfoy?” Harry asked, and Hermione nodded.

“From what little we know of him, we know that he tried to emulate a certain type of people—trying to put forward the image of a pureblood despite the fact that he was half-blood, so likely he would have been well-versed in all the pureblooded traditions.”

“But does _Malfoy_ know about it?” Harry wondered aloud, and Hermione's small smile widened slightly, making Harry stare. “What?”

“Harry,” she said, her tone knowing and heavy with amusement, though she wasn't laughing at him—yet. “It almost sounds like you'd be _all for_ this...erm... _arrangement._ ”

“What? No!” Harry sputtered, which only made Hermione's knowing smile widen. “Seriously, _no._ It's just that...well, Malfoy's had it so rough these last few years, a lot of it because of me, I just don't want to do anything else that might hurt him.”

“Well, that's very noble of you,” Hermione said with a soft smile. “I suppose the only way to know for sure is to go back to Malfoy and Snape and _ask_ them. They're both too clever for something like worming the information out of them in some sort of roundabout way...”

“Plus, Snape was a double-agent,” Harry pointed out with a small frown. “He'd probably bite my head off if I tried to manipulate the information out of him. But how can I even _ask_ that? It's not like I'm asking him what his favourite colour is, or if he takes cream and sugar in his tea. This is...it's pretty bloody personal, Hermione. I don't know if I could ask them something like... _that_.”

“You've seen Malfoy naked,” Hermione pointed out with an arched brow. “What else is sacred between you three after _that_?”

“That doesn't mean anything!” Harry protested with a sputter, “I've seen both you _and_ Ron starkers. At the same time. It traumatized me.”

_“Traumatized?_ Seriously?” Hermione demanded, then snorted as she rolled her eyes. “You gays are so ridiculous. You see a fanny _one time_ and you act like you've seen the interior of Auschwitz.”

“We're getting off-track,” Harry said with a dismissive wave of his hand as he tried to ignore her halfhearted jibe and giggling. “I just...it seems wrong...to even bring it up, I mean. I feel like I'm coming between them.”

Hermione arched a suggestive brow at his wording, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Ron has had a _terrible_ influence on you.”

 

~*~

 

As the weeks began to pass, Draco found that giving up his drugs was harder than he had expected it to be. He'd known that he would want them—it was foolish to think that he wouldn't—but Draco had not expected to miss the white powder like a drowning man wished to breathe. He wanted them—he _needed_ them.

But then he remembered Severus. The dour man who had so casually opened his heart to him without ever meaning to, and let Draco in. Draco wanted to be good enough for Severus, he wanted to be clean and whole for him—but he was not sure if it was enough. He wanted the powder more. He missed feeling _good_ , and he was so _tired_ of being miserable constantly.

And when he wasn't miserable, he was sleeping.

In point of fact, Draco could not recall the last time he'd left the bed. He had to assume, too, that Severus had cast some sort of charm on him, because in that time he hadn't had to use the loo _once_.

In contrast to all the misery associated with Severus more or less forcing him to give up his drugs, Draco was quickly learning that the Potions Master had been rather good about concealing one particular aspect of his personality while Draco had still been his student.

The man was a _hopeless_ romantic.

Of course, it was not in an overt way that made Draco want to lose his breakfast on the floor. It was in smaller, less noticeable ways that the untrained eye might not catch.

But it made his heart flutter all the same.

Like how Severus would sit at his side almost constantly, save for when he was brewing. Sometimes they chatted, other times Severus read to him, but most often they sat in silence, their fingers intertwined. And every night, Severus would slide into the narrow bed next to Draco, and hold him until he fell asleep.

It was so very close to perfect that Draco struggled to believe that this was really what his life had become, and he had begun to wait for the other proverbial shoe to drop.

At the same time, much of Draco's thoughts had been trained on the fact that Severus had admitted to him that he had been his secret Sugar Daddy all along.

Somehow, the idea that it was _Severus Snape_ paying for him and not some nameless stranger made it more difficult to accept money and gifts from him. He didn't want to be the man's charity case, and Draco had never known him to be particularly financially stable back in the old days, though at the same time it was entirely possible that the man had come into some sort of lump sum in during Draco's exile to the muggle world.

How to admit to Severus that he did not need his charity however was proving much more difficult than Draco had expected. They were both prideful men, after all, and Draco feared misspeaking and losing his connection with Severus altogether. The relationship was too new, and in Draco's mind, too fragile to risk anything too overt, like shaking a brittle tree branch to loose a broom from its confines.

Draco began his separation from Severus's overt kindness by getting out of bed.

It was difficult; Draco hadn't quite anticipated how staying in bed for so long would affect his physical strength, and his legs wobbled dangerously, like he'd been hit with a particularly powerful Jelly Legs Jinx. As a result, that first attempt to stand on his own resulted with him sprawled in a tangled heap on the floor.

“You should have called for me,” a sudden voice had scolded, and Draco turned to see Severus leaning against the door frame of his room, arms crossed, and offering Draco a glare of annoyance. “You have mild muscular atrophy, Draco. I tried to offset with an increase in the protein in your meals, but there will still be some degeneration from being in bed for so long.”

Without another word the older man swept forward, and he wrapped a strong arm around Draco's waist, helping him to his feet. Draco clung to Severus, his fingers twined in his robes and his cheek pressed to his chest. He felt a strange mingling of shame and gratitude bubble in the pit of his stomach as Severus walked him back to the bed and sat him down. His hand moved to Draco's back, rubbing gently as Draco curled into his side with a frustrated sigh.

“I hate this,” he muttered miserably. “I hate feeling so...so... _weak_.”

“It is only temporary, Draco,” Severus murmured as he planted a kiss to Draco's hair, “I will help you get strong again.”

Draco glanced up, and his eyes met the older man's. The black gaze was soft; there was a faint, almost invisible smile twitching at the corners of his mouth, and he was regarding Draco like he was some sort of gilded god—with awe and reverence.

“Why do you look at me like that?” Draco asked, and Severus cocked a questioning brow at him.

“Like what?”

“Like I'm worth something.”

Severus's expression changed, his shock becoming more acute. The hand at Draco's back moved up his spine, and stopped only when it was cradling the back of the younger man's neck.

“You think yourself worthless?” he asked, and Draco nearly laughed out loud.

“I'm a whore, Severus,” Draco replied simply. “It's sort of in the job description.”

“And yet you are adamant about continuing this work instead of doing something else— _anything_ else,” Severus observed, and Draco smiled humorlessly.

“I'm good at it, Severus,” Draco said. “You yourself have gotten a taste of my... _talents_. It's also quite lucrative. My family needs me to work, and this brings in the most money.”

“I can help—”

“—no,” Draco interrupted with a frown. “I can take care of them myself. I don't need your help.”

“Your recent troubles suggest that you _do_ ,” Severus pointed out, and Draco frowned. “Draco, please, why are you so adamant about destroying yourself?”

The question dove straight to the centre of Draco's problems, and he shivered at how Severus was able to do that with such ease. He lifted his left arm, but the tight sleeve of the pyjama top did not shift the way a set of robes may have. Even without it moving, he could see it—slightly faded, certainly, but still there—his Dark Mark.

Draco did not need to say a word, and Severus seemed to understand what he was alluding to. The older man closed his hand over the spot where the Mark was, and Draco flinched as though he'd been struck.

“I deserve to be punished,” Draco whispered. “Because of me, so many people died, even if my wand didn't kill them, if I wasn't so _stupid_ , thinking that it was this great honour—” his voice wavered, and he clenched his eyes shut.

“You are not the Dark Lord, Draco,” Severus murmured gently, his hand moving away from the mark to wrap both arms around Draco's waist and draw him closer. “You killed _no one._ You were a seventeen-year-old boy who knew no better. You grew up in the height of wizarding society, listening to your father talk of the glory of serving the Dark Lord, and he spoke of the days of that first war with pride. You are a Slytherin through and through—your desire to prove yourself runs deep. You were a _child_ , Draco. You have long since learnt your lesson. I daresay you came to your senses much sooner than I ever did, and the fact that you _did_ learn from your mistakes speaks volumes about your character.”

“I may as well have,” Draco muttered miserably. “I willingly followed a madman, and I wasn't even _good_ at it. My failure to kill Dumbledore led to me being his personal torturer...I lost count of how many people I used the Cruciatus Curse on. Gods, their screams...” his voice caught, and Draco buried his face in his hands to hide his shame.

Without a word, Severus gathered Draco into his lap in a reassuring embrace. He did not need to even speak, and Draco broke down, weeping audibly into his shoulder. Severus held him fast, silent, and just let Draco cry.

When Draco had no tears left to shed, he did not feel any better, but he did feel distinctly wrung-out, like an overused washcloth. He was shivering a little as Severus continued to hold him gently, and the older man coaxed him back down onto the bed, stretching out alongside him. He reached out and traced the shape of Draco's face with his fingers, then leant in to kiss him tenderly.

“Tomorrow we will get you walking,” Severus reassured him, “and I will test your bloods again to see if it is safe to give you something to speed up the process.”

Uncertain whether his voice was up to working properly, Draco nodded a little as he shifted closer to Severus in the tiny bed. The older man wrapped his arms around Draco, holding him as gently as a china doll, and stroked his hair gently until he finally fell asleep.

In that moment between waking and sleep, Draco found that he truly did not know whether or not he was capable of battling his demons and beating them back enough to make this relationship work. He missed his powder acutely in that moment, missed how quickly he could have banished this anguish, and he _hated_ that he missed it.

_I hope that I can learn to not miss it,_ Draco thought hazily as sleep took him. _For him._


	12. Shattered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next chapter will be up February 22nd. Enjoy :)
> 
> **Trigger Warning: The end of this chapter contains a scene of slut-shaming, sexual assault, and the beginnings of a noncon scene, but nothing super graphic.**

Chapter Twelve – Shattered

 

Harry paced in his sitting room. His arms were folded at his back and his head was bowed, his brow furrowed pensively.

“ _You mussst go back to them_ ,” Belvedere, his snake, hissed from the hearth. Harry glared at him.

“I must _not,_ ” Harry countered, “the idea of this whole thing is completely mad.”

“ _I can sssmell the longing on you,_ ” Belvedere replied with a pointed flick of his tongue. “ _You lussst for Ssseverusss and Draco. You will not be content with anyone elssse.”_

“Oh, what do you know? You're a snake, not Agony Aunt,” he grumbled, and glared at the serpent. “I ought to make you into a belt, not turn to you for advice.”

“ _You were never asss happy asss when you were helping Ssseverusss and Draco. The fact that they are together meansss nothing, Massster. They want you asss much asss you want them.”_

“Bollocks,” Harry grumbled. “This whole _triad_ thing is just a mental idea of Hermione's. There's no proof that they want me; Snape might just be some kind of _...player,_ or something. That's _way_ more likely than Draco willingly letting me fuck him. He hates me, remember?”

“ _He hatesss and lovesss you, he doesss not fully comprehend why one would care for him_ , _and you mussst ssshow him,_ ” Belvedere replied, and Harry snorted.

“Yeah, _sure._ Malfoy, _caring_ for me. He probably loves syphilis more than me,” Harry replied, and Belvedere flicked his tongue at him benignly.

“ _It makesss it no lesss true, Massster,”_ Belvedere replied, “ _they want you in their bed, I know it—_ ”

A firm knocking upon his front door interrupted the snake's so-called advice, and Harry nearly sang with relief. _Thank God_.

He hurried to the door, but his joy crumbled when he peeped through the eye hole and he saw Snape standing there with his arms crossed and a look of impatience on his face.

Bracing himself for another argument, Harry reluctantly unlocked the door and swung it open.

“Mr Potter,” Snape purred in a low tone that made him shiver. “How nice to see you again. May I come in?”

“Er, a-all right,” Harry replied as he stepped aside to admit him, and fought the flush that threatened to creep up his cheeks as the older man brushed past him.

“ _He lussstsss for you, Massster,_ ” Belvedere said, “ _I can sssmell it._ ”

“ _Quiet, you,_ ” Harry hissed back, and Snape arched a brow at Harry.

“Had no idea you could still speak Parseltongue,” the older man remarked, and Harry shrugged.

“I worried that it might mean I still had some connection to Voldemort, but Hermione is pretty sure that the Horcrux in my mind is completely gone,” Harry replied, “I guess it's just a fluke or something.”

“Hmm,” Snape inclined his head once. “And what did he say?”

Harry turned and glared at the snake, who seemed to have suddenly found the masonry of his fireplace utterly fascinating, and was slithering up and around the stone absently. He turned back to Snape, and offered the man a light shrug.

“He said hi.”

Snape eyed Harry, almost as though he didn't believe him, but did not speak on it, and instead moved as though to close the distance between them. Harry immediately jumped back, and Snape cocked a brow at him.

“What are you playing at, Snape?” Harry demanded, panting a little in his alarm as he glared at the older man.

“ _Playing_ at?” he asked, and Harry nodded.

“I saw you,” he said accusingly, “I _saw_ you with Malfoy. And now you're coming on to me like nothing happened between you two. What on _earth_ is wrong with you? You don't think he's suffered enough, now you want him to get his heart broken too, by cheating on him with _me_?”

“How certain are you that I am here without Draco's permission?” Snape asked, and arched a brow at Harry again. “Are you quite certain that Draco is ignorant to this, and has not encouraged me to bring you into our bed?”

“That's ridiculous—”

“—is it?” Snape took a purposeful step forward. “Is it really so abhorrent to you? We are not stupid, Mr Potter, we know you've been looking—at _both_ of us. The dual attraction has alarmed and confused you, but you do not need to be so distraught, we would _welcome_ your addition to our bed—”

“—would you _stop_?” Harry demanded, and Snape paused, his eyebrows raised in alarm. “This is just...I have no idea _what_ this is. But I can't be in a relationship with two people, it wouldn't be right, no matter what H—er, I mean, no matter what I read. B-Besides, I don't fancy you, not _even_.”

“It took you a miraculously long time for you to claim that you do not fancy me,” Snape replied in a smooth, almost teasing tone of voice. The mere sound of it was enough to make Harry shiver, and the small action appeared to not be missed by the older man, who smirked a little, and stepped forward again. Harry moved back, but he felt an embarrassed flush rise in his cheeks as he stumbled back into the wall.

Snape pressed his palms against the wall on either side of Harry's head and leant in with a leering smirk upon his face. Harry inhaled sharply and pressed himself back against the wall, his eyes wide as he regarded the older man. “What do you want from me?” Harry demanded, his voice shaking. “You have Malfoy, why are you so keen on...this?”

Snape reached for Harry, moving slowly, but even so Harry flinched, and Snape froze. He pressed his palm back against the wall, and leant closer to Harry.

“What are you so afraid of, Potter?” Snape purred, the soft tone once more making Harry shiver. “Are you genuinely repulsed by us, and truly do not want any part of this, _or_ are you afraid that you will enjoy it? Are you afraid perhaps of what your friend Miss Skeeter will write about you when the news breaks? _Hero of the Wizarding World Caught in Bed with Not One, But Two Former Death Eaters?_ Oh, the _scandal_.”

“Shut up,” Harry growled, and narrowed his eyes at the older man. “I'm not like you, all right? I don't—I _can't_ just take what I want like that. I have a position to maintain, and you know better than most that the world is still _very_ suspicious of former Death Eaters, regardless how innocent they are. If I do this and I am found out, I'll lose _everything_ that I've worked for since I was seventeen years old. I can't throw it all away like that, I just...I _can't_.”

“Would you like to know what I think, Potter?”

“Not particularly, but I have a feeling that you're going to tell me anyway,” Harry retorted, and to his surprise, Snape smiled at him in a strange sort of approval. He lifted his hand from the wall again and moved it to the side of Harry's throat, the sudden touch making him jump slightly, but Snape did nothing more than brush his long fingers over Harry's pulse point lightly.

“I think that you have gotten quite selfish in your adult life,” Snape said, his voice still little more than a sinful purr. “Admittedly, I did not have the proper measure of you while you were still in school, but now, I do not doubt my suspicion. You care more for the office you hold than happiness for yourself. A triad is not like cheating on one spouse for another, nor is it that silly tradition of _Sister Wives,_ or _Brother Husbands_. This is a mutually agreed upon relationship between _three_ people. We would take to bed sometimes together, sometimes separately, as we wish. The presence of Draco and I would help to keep your impulsiveness in check, while your presence would aid in lifting Draco's spirits as he fights his demons, of which there are many. I would be able to keep you two from coming to blows, for spats between you two would be expected, and me, well...there is a certain _allure_ of having two handsome young men in my bed instead of just one.”

“So your interest in this is all...what's the word... _material_? You only want this because Malfoy and I are fit?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Snape replied cryptically, his lips now a hairsbreadth from Harry's. “You know better than most that I do not reveal myself to just _anyone._ ”

The mere idea of Snape _revealing himself_ , so to speak, brought another flush to Harry's cheeks. The other man chuckled, and leant in even closer. Harry had expected to smell unwashed hair and some sort of foul potions ingredients clinging to his skin, but instead he smelt of sandalwood, charcoal ink, and cinnamon.

“I—I shouldn't...” Harry mumbled, his chest rising and falling so rapidly that it was something of a miracle that he hadn't fainted yet.

“Do something for yourself for a change, Harry,” Snape said, perhaps the first instance Harry had ever heard of two things—the first time that he had ever heard Snape offer him encouragement that was not some sort of thinly veiled insult, and the first time he'd ever heard Snape call him by his given name. It was the latter that broke the last of Harry's resistance, and he leant forward, just as Snape closed the distance between them, and they kissed.

Harry had never been very adventurous in his love life, and had had only a handful of relationships. He'd never been with anyone very much older than him, and when Snape— _Severus,_ Harry thought to himself—kissed him, he had not known what to expect.

Severus was as commanding with his kisses as he was in every other aspect of his life. One hand stayed at Harry's waist, while the other trailed up his side, over his neck, and into his hair. Harry threw his arms clumsily over Severus's shoulders, while the older man directed the kiss, parting Harry's lips lightly, and darted his more experienced tongue into Harry's mouth.

Harry happily gave over control to Severus, utterly melting under the older man's silent commands, and he trembled as Severus pinned him back against the wall, moving his hands to Harry's wrists and lifting them above his head while he kissed him even more fiercely.

_I can't believe I didn't want to do this..._ Harry thought dazedly, responding to every flick and lick of Severus's tongue eagerly, while he squirmed experimentally in the hold he found himself in, only to grin when he felt Severus's hands on his wrists tighten slightly.

When Severus finally pulled back, both men were panting sharply. Severus's eyes were glazed over with lust, and Harry could feel a distinctive— _large—_ hardness pressing into his thigh in an obvious hint.

“Are you still unwilling to join us, Harry?” Severus purred, arching a brow at the younger man, but instead of the usual disdain in his voice, the tone this time was vastly different—it was a true request. If Harry was genuinely unwilling, he could say no, and Severus would not fault him for it—of this, he was positive.

_As if I'd say no after a kiss like that,_ Harry thought, and instead of answering verbally, Harry leant in for another kiss. Severus chuckled as he indulged him, and Harry nearly wept when he pulled back again.

“Will you accompany me back to my home to relay the news to our third party?” Severus purred, and Harry tensed. In the heat of the moment, he had completely forgotten about Malfoy.

Harry still couldn't envision _any_ scenario where Malfoy would be accepting of this, but he could not deny that the idea of being with him _and_ Severus was enticing, to say the least. He could only see all manner of worst-case scenarios in his mind, and none that ended with some variation of _Happily Ever After._

All the same, Harry was nothing, if not determined.

He wanted to try.

After he gave himself a moment to prepare for the monumental effect the decision would have upon his life, Harry nodded slowly.

Severus smiled approvingly. Harry had only a moment to mentally remark on how the physical reaction seemed to regress the older man's age, and he looked younger, more full of life, than he ever had before. Severus nodded his head once, and leant back in for a gentle kiss before he murmured, “good answer.”

 

The pair used Harry's Floo connection to travel from Harry's flat and back to Severus's cottage, but were in for a shock when they arrived—Draco's bedroom was empty.

“Malfoy?” Harry called uncertainly, and he backed out of the little room that the blond had been using. The bed was made and the pyjamas that Severus had conjured for him were folded in the centre of the duvet, and no one answered his call.

The cottage was not big, and it would be difficult for anyone to remain concealed in such a place. Harry stepped back into the main living area, and saw Severus exiting the dining room with a piece of parchment in his hands.

“I found him,” Severus said to Harry's questioning stare. Without Harry having to ask, he thrust the letter into Harry's grasp, and he immediately dropped his gaze to read it.

 

_Severus,_

_I wish to thank you for your hospitality these last few weeks, but I find myself no longer one for drawn-out goodbyes or grand spectacles, and wish to slip out quietly._

_Do not mistake me, it is not lack of feeling for you (or Potter, assuming he ever gets his head out of his arse and figures out that we're made for him) that I take my leave, but my mother has been alone these past weeks, and I cannot do that to her any longer. I need to return to my work, and my life. Yes, I do mean all aspects of my life._

_I tried, I did, but without my powder, I feel as though life is not worth living. It makes me happy, it makes me feel like myself, and I cannot go on without it._

_I wanted this thing between us to last, but I feel that our lives are far too different now to maintain any kind of relationship._

_I wish you more of a life than I could ever have, or could give to you._

_Love,_

_Draco_

 

Harry lowered the letter as a wave of nervous nausea washed over him, and he wobbled on his feet.

“Was there any indication that he'd just take off?” Harry asked uncertainly as Severus began to pace, and he shook his head.

“None. I suppose he came to this foolish conclusion when I was out seducing you.” He glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye, and he felt himself flush with shame. “He'd been quite reluctant up until recently to even leave his bed, but he'd always been quite vocal about how he wished to continue doing sex work, despite my offers to help him find something— _anything_ —else. Idiot boy, I almost wish I'd tampered with his food, something to clear his mind of some of the aftereffects of those drugs he'd been taking...”

_Tampered_.

The single word made Harry jump as though someone had leapt from the shadows and shouted, “ _Boo!_ ” and immediately, Harry felt himself go cold as Hermione's voice lifted from his memory, and echoed through his mind.

 

“ _Before we get into the details of you letter, Harry, I think you should know that I think it was tampered with..._ ”

“ _I think it may have been Ron, but I have no proof of that beyond a few offhanded remarks he's made about wondering what Malfoy's been up to lately..._ ”

 

“We need to find Malfoy, now.”

 

~*~

 

It had taken Draco longer than he would have liked to get home.

Without access to a wand he was unable to Apparate, and as a result he had been forced to walk. Added to the fact that Severus lived in the middle of _nowhere_ , he had trekked down the side of the road for nearly an hour before he got to anything resembling a town, and began the long journey home.

Draco was at least grateful that Severus or Potter—he was uncertain which—had had the forethought to bring his wallet along with a few changes of clothes in an overnight bag, and thus he was able to take cabs when he could not find someone to hitch a ride with, though the lorry drivers that _did_ stop for him were more than happy to offer him a _ride for a ride_.

_Just like old times_ , Draco had thought bitterly.

In jumping between cabs and lorries, it took the better part of four hours to make it back to London, and he felt very much like he'd come home. The city reek was familiar, and the anonymity of the sprawling metropolis was far more comforting to Draco in his pseudo-muggle life than out in the country.

_At least out here I don't need to worry as obsessively about being attacked for being bent..._ Draco thought as he hiked his bag higher on his shoulder before he descended into the Underground.

The trip home took no time at all, and when he walked in the door, he found an empty flat, devoid of both his mother and his father.

From the few letter his mother had written, Draco knew that his mother had taken up a doctor on a new, experimental drug for his father, and most likely, she was visiting with his father at hospital, or away for a checkup with him.

Draco dumped his overnight bag near his camp bed, then moved back to the kitchenette to make himself a tea.

He transported it back to the sitting room and sat, sipping on the hot, calming drink while he watched the door, wondering if his mother might get back before he needed to leave again.

Unfortunately, the bottom of his teacup came before his mother arrived home, and Draco reluctantly got up and went to prepare to go to work.

He gathered his 'work bag', and filled it with a packet of cigarettes, a box of condoms, spermicide, and a bottle of bruise ointment—just in case.

He then grabbed his _work clothes—_ a mesh shirt and leather trousers that left nothing to the imagination, and tight, attractive briefs.

Draco moved to the bathroom with his armful of clothing, showered, dressed, brushed his teeth, and applied a scant amount of cologne. He took the time to make his hair presentable, though at the same time he vaguely wondered if it was really worth it—it would become mussed so quickly, it almost seemed like a waste.

As a last touch, Draco left a short note for his mother, letting her know that he'd come home, but had to leave for work, before he finally headed out the door.

 

It did not take long for Draco to slink out of his building and over to his old corner with his head bowed in a feeble attempt to avoid being recognized by his neighbours, and his pimp did not appear at all surprised to see him.

“Things not work out with Mr Moneybags?” Vic asked without venom, and Draco nodded.

“Something like that,” Draco replied with a small shrug, and looked to the empty street. “You have any customers for me?”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he replied, and smirked a little. “Group a boys about your age came by earlier asking for you by name. Paid me a pretty penny up front, seemed convinced that you'd come by.”

Draco swallowed a shudder. He _hated_ groups, moreso after his recent  _experience_. It was always humiliating, but he forced himself to nod as Vic continued, “they didn't hang about, but they left a taxi and an address for you.”

Vic dug into his pockets and withdrew two items—a bump of coke, and a flimsy piece of paper with a motel address scribbled onto it. He arched a suggestive brow at Draco as he uncurled his hand further, offering both items to him without a word.

Draco was uncertain whether he was up to speaking, but snatched up both items before the pimp could change his mind.

“Blimey, you're greedy tonight,” he teased, “how long has it been since your last high?”

“ _Too_ long,” Draco replied roughly as he jammed the bump against his nose and snorted. He handed the contraption back and a grin began to spread on his face. “Mr Moneybags tried to send me to rehab, didn't work.”

“Well, now you're back, sweetheart,” the pimp said as he reached out to pat Draco's arse crudely. “That's what counts. Now, get going, you can't keep your customers waiting!”

He swatted Draco's arse once, and with a high giggle the blond hurried around the corner and to the waiting cab. He handed over the slip of paper, to which the cabbie nodded before he turned the key and drove off.

 

Draco had rather hoped that his high would still be in full swing by the time he reached the motel, but as it would turn out, the motel in question was farther away than Draco had anticipated, and when they pulled into the car park, he could already feel himself crashing.

_And of course I have none on me..._ he thought miserably as he thanked the driver and got out of the taxi.

“Room seven, laddie,” the cab driver reminded him as he poked his head out the window. “Enjoy yerself.”

“I'll try, thank you,” Draco replied with a slightly derisive laugh as he turned towards the line of motel doors, and made for the one with a shiny faux-brass '7' affixed to it.

Upon reaching the door, Draco had not yet knocked before it creaked open and a hand reached out to grab him and promptly dragged him inside. He yelped, startled by the sudden action, but even that had not adequately prepared him for the shock of what he found inside, for he recognized every face in the room.

Three former Gryffindors, and one former Hufflepuff, all of whom were smirking at him in a way that made Draco feel sick to his stomach.

Draco shook himself out of Finnegan's hold, and backed up, wide-eyed, into the door.

Ringing, mocking laughter echoed throughout the room, and Draco felt his face burn with shame.

“Oh, I saw Harry's letter to Hermione, but I just _had_ to see this to believe it,” Weasley said nastily, “finally got your comeuppance, eh, Malfoy? From riches to rags—worse, even. Draco Malfoy, a common _whore_.”

The words burned like fire, and Draco felt his eyes sting. He quickly looked away, unwilling to let these brigands see him cry.

“Potter told you what I do?” Draco asked, his voice hoarse, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Weasley shrug.

“Not exactly,” he replied, “my birthday is soon and I was trying to see if they were planning anything, and _boy_ did I get a surprise.” He laughed again, and Draco flinched as though he'd been struck. “So, I gathered up all the gay blokes that I know of that wouldn't mind touching a Slytherin, and now we get to show you your _real_ place.”

Draco chanced a glance up, and swallowed nervously when he saw Finnegan fumbling with his belt while he took a large step forward.

“My place,” Draco echoed hollowly, knowing exactly where this was going without having to ask, and his suspicion was validated at once when Finnegan stopped in front of him, and whipped out his half-hard cock.

“Get on your knees,” Finnegan commanded, and with mocking laughter still echoing around and through him, Draco obeyed.

 


	13. Worthless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: S/O to my beta Jess for their help on the next several chapters of this fic, thank you for letting me harass you with so many questions <3 next update will be March 1st.
> 
> **Trigger Warning: References to rape/noncon, slut shaming, verbal and physical abuse, and emotional trauma.**

Chapter Thirteen – Worthless

 

“Explain this to me again,” Severus drawled, his voice carrying a note of calm rage that was somehow more terrifying than any time Harry had ever heard the man shout at him. “Explain it as though I were an idi—as though I were _you_.”

Harry frowned at the insult, but did not have a chance to interrupt before Severus continued to berate him.

“I _told_ you to tell no one about Draco, and yet you still told Miss Granger,” he snarled, his voice shaking as he spoke. “On top of all that, you believe that _Mr Weasley_ may have discovered his secret, and will seek Draco out to harm him in some way. What part of _do not tell anyone_ was unclear? Telling no one _includes_ your ridiculous friends, you idiot boy! And now because of your negligence, there is a chance that Draco is in real danger, which is, once again, _your_ fault!”

“I didn't know Ron was going to go snooping through her post!” Harry shouted back angrily, “I needed someone to talk to about this, and Hermione is not the judgmental kind, I knew that she would keep Malfoy's secret, and unlike you, I'm not able to work things out on my own, sometimes I need help—help from someone who won't snipe at me when I don't act brilliantly the first time round.” Harry took a step back, breathing heavily as he tried to calm down, his hands buried in his hair. “Whatever, you can yell at me later. Right now we _need_ to find Malfoy.”

Severus looked as though he wanted to argue, but the mention of Malfoy's name seemed to snap him out of his impending rage, but he continued to glower at Harry as though he really, _really_ wanted to keep berating him.

_Oh yeah, this relationship-thing is off to a brilliant start_ , Harry thought sourly as he frowned at the older man once before turning around as he began to pace.

“I think one of us should check his flat, and one of should go round his old, er, place of business?” Harry proposed, and Severus inclined his head once.

“Decent start, Harry,” he replied, and Harry felt himself flush a little at the use of his first name and the near-compliment. “Any suggestions on how we can keep in contact?”

“What about charming a pair of galleons with a modified Protean Charm and Portkey Spell, so if we find him, or find out where he is we can notify each other that way?”

“ _You_ can do a Protean Charm?” Severus asked with mild surprise, though he seemed to be trying to mask it under a layer of disdain. Harry smirked.

“Hermione taught me,” Harry countered, and he smiled inwardly when he saw twin spots of faint colour rise in the older man's cheeks. “So, does that work for you?”

“It is a workable plan,” Severus replied with a short nod of his head. “ _I_ shall do the spellwork, however.”

Having a feeling that it would be something of a waste to argue the point, Harry nodded his head while he dug into his pocket for his moneybag, pulled out two fat gold coins, and handed them to Severus.

“I shall go to his flat,” Severus said as he tapped first one coin, then the other. “I feel that you have more patience in dealing with ruffians like his pimp than I would...”

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say that that was _almost_ a compliment,” Harry teased as he took back one of the galleons and pocketed it. Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry, but did not answer as he gripped the young man's shoulder and steered him out of the cottage.

 

Harry and Severus Apparated separately, and after he ensured that he had enough muggle money to properly bribe someone if need be, he stepped out of the alley and crossed the street towards the pimp and his whores.

All the young men, ranging in age from sixteen to twenty-five, all seemed to be strung out on some drug or another, and any time one of the boys seemed to be sobering up, the pimp swept in like the devil incarnate, and offered them another hit.

Imagining Malfoy in the thick of this made Harry feel positively sick. He'd seen it at a distance, of course, from all the time he had spent canvassing the area and spying on him at _work_ , so to speak. Seeing it up close however was somehow even more difficult, and it took a great feat of strength for Harry to keep the look of disgust off his face as he made his approach.

“Can I help you?” the pimp asked, his tone guarded as Harry stepped up.

“I hope so,” Harry replied with what he hoped was a welcoming smile. “I'm looking for someone under your employ. Tall, bit taller than me, grey eyes, blond hair, skinny, pretty face? Goes by the name of Draco.”

“I just sent him off to a group of clients,” the pimp grunted, “if you want him. you'll have to come back lat—oh, look at those pretty pieces of paper...”

The pimp was like a magpie, and his gaze was fixed completely on the wad of bills in Harry's hand as he began to count out the fifty-pound notes. Harry counted out one hundred pounds, and glanced up at the pimp.

“Can you tell me where Draco is?” Harry asked, and the man chuckled as he shook his head.

“Can't be doing that, customer confidentiality, you see—”

Harry counted out two more fifties, and looked back at the man, but his _no can do_ expression did not change.

Harry repeated the process two more times, and began to feel the first tendrils of nervousness invade his mind as he approached five hundred quid, as he was coming dangerously close to all the muggle money he had on him. Thankfully, once he hit five hundred and fifty, he got what he wanted.

“Other side of London,” the pimp said as he accepted the wad of bills. “The Fireside Motel, room seven.”

“And these people who bought his services, did you get their names?”

“No names, one was a ginger, there was three others, a skinny black guy, an Irish fellow, and a prissy, poncy bloke who looked like he sucked a lemon.”

Harry frowned, uncertain who the last person was, but the former three were obviously Ron, Seamus, and Dean. He muttered a quick thank you as he hurried off, running through his mental list of people who might fit the pimp's description of the last person, but his thoughts kept jumping back to Malfoy himself, and what those sick sods might be doing to him right now.

Harry ducked into an alley and Disapparated, and only belatedly remembered to call Severus through the galleon after he reappeared next to the bins of a burger bar in the back, and set his sights on the motel across the street.

Harry tapped his galleon again when Severus did not appear, and waited.

And waited.

 

When nearly ten minutes had passed by, Harry tapped his galleon for a third time, then turned his attention back to the motel across the street. He had been content to wait for his so-called backup, that was until he heard a cry of pain that was closer to a broken sob sound from the motel, and Harry immediately ran into the street.

He dodged a taxi and a lorry as he jumped into oncoming traffic, ignoring the blaring car horns and the angry yells of, “ _oi, watch it, mate!_ ” as he jumped the kerb and raced for the line of doors.

_If Ron's hurt Malfoy in any way, I'm going to kill him..._ Harry thought as he made it to door number seven, turned to make sure no muggles were hanging about, then carefully extracted his wand, pointed it at the door's lock, and muttered, “ _Bombarda_.”

With a blast like a cannon the door splintered as it flew open, causing the occupants inside to shout in alarm and dash for their haphazardly discarded clothes.

It was like a scene out of a nightmare.

Malfoy was naked and curled up on the floor, shivering, and spots of semen were on his face and in his hair. His lips were swollen from obvious abuse, and there were distinct bruises on his hips in the shape of finger marks. Yet more cum was leaking from his arse, and though Malfoy appeared distraught by the encounter, it seemed to stem more from embarrassment and shame, and not physical trauma. He was crying hard and curled up on himself, trying to hide his shame from the intruder, which, apparently, he had not yet realized was Harry, and not a copper.

Harry flicked his wand, and four distinct cries sounded as he bound Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Zacharias, and he cast silencing charms on each of them before he turned to Malfoy, conjured a blanket, and wrapped the blond in it.

Malfoy jumped, letting out a yelp of fright, and tried to scramble away, but he appeared too weak to do so. Tears were streaking his cheeks, and when Harry got closer, he realized that Malfoy was also very pale—though from fear or exhaustion, Harry's wasn't certain.

“Malfoy, it's me, Harry,” Harry murmured, and winced when Malfoy cast him a betrayed look.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he rasped softly, “come to take your _turn_?”

Malfoy was wholly unable to maintain the sneering tone, and his eyes misted with tears again as he broke down crying.

Harry didn't think, or even pause to question his own actions, but drew Malfoy into a gentle embrace.

Malfoy jumped at first, startled by the contact, but when it became clear that Harry had no ulterior motive other than offering him comfort, he clung to Harry as he rubbed Malfoy's back, not saying a word, and let him get it all out of his system. Harry rocked Malfoy as he would a baby, just as Severus, at last, swept into the room.

He did not even offer the bound and silenced assailants even a passing glance as he crouched down next to Harry and wrapped an arm around Malfoy as he continued to weep. Like before, he jumped a little at the sudden touch, but when Malfoy realized who it was the blond shuffled in between Severus and Harry, hugging them both as he tried to calm himself down, while Severus's hand joined Harry's at Malfoy's back.

“We're here, Draco, you're safe, don't worry, just let it out...” Severus murmured, and Draco let out another anguished sob.

“They...they...” Malfoy began, but his hiccoughing, racking sobs stopped him from speaking further, and he threw himself at Severus fully while he buried his face in the crook of the man's neck.

Harry tried to ignore the faint sting of Malfoy turning to Severus for comfort, while he stood up and turned to his bound and gagged friends.

His _former_ friends, rather.

Harry strode over to Ron with purpose, and flicked his wand to remove the Silencing Charm before he levelled his gaze with the ginger's. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Harry got there first.

“You have _one_ chance to explain yourself,” Harry growled, “and then we're dragging you off to Magical Law Enforcement, and so help me if I have my way, you will _never_ see the light of day ever again.”

“He's a Death Eater,” Ron spat at once, apparently unfazed by Harry's threat. “We were just having a little fun. It's not like we hurt him.”

Harry's eyes narrowed. _It's not like we hurt him?_ Harry wondered, _is he completely mad?_

“He's a _mess,_ Ron,” Harry snarled, and pointed to Draco, still quivering as he hid in Severus's embrace. “And I don't just mean you lot doing whatever it is you sick fucks did to him. It's a _miracle_ you didn't completely break him with what you did. _No one_ deserves what you put him through. Do you understand that? _No one._ You don't even need to tell me what you did, because it's all over his face. You made him do things to you, and mocked him and degraded him while he did it. What is _wrong_ with you? What gives you the right to treat someone like that?”

“He was a Death—”

“—I don't give a flying fuck if he was Grindelwald himself, or the bloody Easter Bunny!” Harry interrupted, his voice jumping up in volume as he shouted at Ron. “ _Nothing_ gives you the right to treat a person like that. He has been through more than his fair share of hardship, you had no right making it worse for him.”

Harry lifted his wand to silence him again, but Severus's velvet tone stopped him short.

“Harry, a moment, if you please.”

The polite tone, paired with the use of Harry's first name seemed to send Ron into something close to a fit, and he sputtered indignantly as Harry turned to face the older man, who was still cradling Draco.

Harry moved over to him, his eyebrow cocked, but Severus responded by smirking at Harry and pulling him in for a kiss. Both ignored Ron's shout of disgust, especially when it was clear that Harry was not resisting it, but despite how lovely it was, it was far too short for Harry's liking.

“Do allow me the honour of my own interrogation of the lollygagging ginger before we drag him off to the proper authorities,” he murmured softly, the words only for Harry's ears. “It wouldn't be fair if only you got to question him.”

“Try to avoid killing him,” Harry murmured, “I doubt even my powers of persuasion would be enough to get you out of Azkaban for that.”

Severus smirked, but didn't answer, and passed over guardianship of Draco to Harry without a word.

Harry crouched down and wrapped his arms around Draco. He was no longer openly weeping, but he was still violently shivering, and could not quite meet Harry's eye. He jumped again when Harry touched him, but relaxed almost immediately when he saw who was holding him.

“It's not long now,” Harry whispered to him, and rubbed the blond's back gently. “Severus just needs to do this one thing, then we'll get you out of here.”

Draco didn't answer, but he did shift his gaze over to Severus, who had stopped before Ron and dragged the ginger to his feet, still bound from head to toe with rope. He remained standing for less than thirty seconds before Severus lifted his arm and in a move of surprising strength, he cracked Ron across the jaw with a closed fist as hard as he possibly could.

Like a marionette whose strings had been cut, Ron toppled to the floor with a cry, and the others gaped at Severus with wide eyes.

“What the hell!” Ron shouted angrily, “you can't—”

“—as a matter of fact, I _can_ ,” Severus snarled as he pressed a boot to Ron's throat, stopping him from trying to get up. “I am not your parent, I am no longer your teacher, and you hurt someone I care about. I think you will find that I very much _can_ , Mr Weasley.”

Draco shifted in Harry's arms, he looked so terribly fragile as he peered past Harry and over to Severus. The faintest of smiles twitched at the corners of his mouth as he watched the older man, and Harry tried to ignore the niggling feeling of rejection in the pit of his stomach at Draco's complete lack of acknowledgement of him.

_Didn't I help save you too?_ Harry wondered, _why won't you look at me like that?_

And in that moment, Harry was quite certain Severus's claim that they could have a three-way relationship was complete and utter bollocks. How was it supposed to work if he got this jealous from Draco looking at anyone but _him_ that way?

Harry's arms tensed around Draco while he did his best to swallow his jealousy. Now was most certainly _not_ the time for it.

“I have been many things in my life, Ronald Weasley,” Severus said, his voice trembling with anger as he towered over Ron, “but never have I terrorized a human soul to the extent that you have today. You do not know suffering. You are a sad, spoiled, pathetic little boy who does not understand how the world works, and so help me, I will make _sure_ that you live to regret it.”

“Crock of shit!” Ron hissed as Severus removed his boot from his throat. “You harassed your students, you played favourites, and you bullied Neville Longbottom close to tears—”

“—and after a time, he was better for it,” Severus interrupted. Harry pursed his lips, uncertain if that was true, but given that Severus was trying to make a point, Harry thought it better to not interject. “How was Draco better for what you did to him? Is he improved now, will he go into society a changed man, embracing the world and living life as he never had before?”

 

~*~

 

Weasley gibbered and scrambled for a response, but none came—not that Draco really expected one to. Potter's arms around him felt nice, but Draco did not know what, if anything, that _meant._ He'd seen Potter kiss Severus just now, and so obviously he was admitting that he was interested in them; the way Potter held onto him was certainly indicative of that, but the one time he chanced a glance over to his companion, Potter had seemed angry, though not at Weasley and the others. Had he done something wrong? Was Potter upset with him for what had happened?

_Maybe Potter's sickened because I let them touch me like that..._ Draco thought, and his vision warped a little as his panic began to reassert itself. _I can't exactly blame him, who would want me after that?_

Draco wanted to push Potter away, but couldn't bring himself to. He felt safe in the brunet's arms, like nothing could possibly touch him while Potter held onto him. When he leant forward to rest his head tentatively on Potter's shoulder, his companion's arms tensed around him protectively, and he tuned back in to the conversation between Severus and Weasley. Severus was facing himself and Potter, but his eyes were focused on the ginger at his feet, his expression an unreadable calm, and his boot was back on Weasley's throat.

“Call the Aurors, Harry. Draco, do you wish to leave before they arrive? I believe mine or Harry's memory evidence will be sufficient in having these ruffians put away.”

Uncertain whether his voice was up to working properly, he nodded his head a little. The idea of having to discuss what had occurred on top of everything else was more than Draco could take.

“I'll take him home,” Potter said suddenly, his arms once more tightening around Draco protectively. Severus's eyebrows raised in surprise at the forcefulness of Harry's tone, but both men faltered however when Draco tensed. Potter turned to him, blinking bemusedly, a question in his eyes.

“Please,” Draco whispered, his voice little more than a broken, feeble rasp, “take me to Severus's cottage. I—my mother _can't_ see me like this. She'll know what's happened, and I—I—”

“What, mummy unaware you're a dirty wh—” Severus silenced Weasley with a flick of his wand, but the words still made him feel sick. Draco tightened his hold on Potter, and buried his face in the crook of his former schoolmate's neck as he tried to keep himself from crying. Potter immediately wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, his hold protective, but it did not stop Draco's own mind from supplying him with horrifying echoes of what Weasley and the others had said to him during the ordeal.

 

“ _Like that, don't you, Malfoy? Did you suck You Know Who's cock too? Bet you did, and that's what makes you such a talented little whore...”_

“ _You're probably crawling with diseases, but I'll fuck you anyway, you filthy whore...”_

“ _Sucking cock is all your good for, Malfoy. Go on—swallow it...swallow it!_ ”

 

Draco whimpered, and shivered in Potter's arms as he tried to push away the memories, only to have other ones take their place. Memories of his rape with the strangers bled in with the newer images of what Weasley and the others had done, and he felt as though he might be sick, because Weasley was right—he _was_ a whore. He could hear Potter trying to shush him while he rubbed his back continually, but the gentle tone did little to alleviate the ache that their words had caused, because they were right. Who could possibly love him, after what he had become?

What was Draco Malfoy now, nothing more than an addict, a list of vices as long as his arm, and a _whore._ He presented his arse to anyone who had the money to pay for it, with no regard for his own well being. How many times had he rushed himself to the hospital for a PEP treatment? How many times had he bought bruise ointment and foundation, to hide the finger marks and hickeys?

Too many times.

Carefully, Potter helped him to his feet, but never once eased up on the protective hold he'd bestowed on Draco, while he was also careful to avoid dislodging the blanket he'd wrapped Draco in. Had he been more aware, he may have complained that it was too stifling, but after everything, he welcomed Potter's protectiveness of him.

“If you have any issues with the Aurors, call for me at once,” Potter said firmly, and Severus nodded.

“Take care of him, Harry.”

Potter returned the nod, and tugged Draco even closer as he spun on the spot and Disapparated.

They reappeared just outside the little cottage, and Draco immediately felt himself relax. It was as though he had come home, and once more he found himself compelled to weep—but this time with relief.

Potter repositioned his arm around Draco, and led him inside silently. His expression was tense and troubled, in point of fact he looked almost constipated. Draco wanted to comment on it, perhaps tease him a little, but he found that his voice seemed to be lost to him, scared away to the deepest recesses of his mind after all that had happened.

Potter led him inside the cottage, into the bathroom. He let go of Draco to crouch forward and tap the faucet above the ceramic tub with his wand, compelling it to fill.

Draco wanted to say something—some sort of protest that he was not an infant, and was perfectly capable of washing himself. Every time he opened his mouth however, his voice refused to work properly. When Potter began to tug on his blanket however, clearly intending to remove it, Draco felt a wave of nauseous panic wash over him as his hands tensed around it, holding it firmly in place as he lurched out of Potter's hold with a cry of fright.

“What? What did I do wrong?” Potter sputtered, his eyes wide with surprise as he let Draco go, and the blond scrambled back into the wall of the bathroom, trembling as he stared back at Potter. He saw images in his mind, flashes of Weasley and the others, and bits of his earlier encounters all bleeding together—bodies, naked bodies, bodies that Draco did not want forcing themselves onto him, and he cried out with fright and shame, tumbling towards the ground as he momentarily lost his sense of time, although still vaguely aware that he was falling.

Instead of hitting the floor painfully however, a pair of warm, strong arms caught him and pulled him into a close embrace.

“I'm sorry,” Potter murmured into his ear, one hand moving to gently stroke Draco's hair as he was dragged back to the present. “I didn't mean to scare you; I suppose I should have told you what I was doing as I was doing it, considering what just happened. Draco, I just want to help you clean up—that's _all_. I'm not them, and I never will be. I won't force you, I promise, so if you really don't feel comfortable with me seeing you naked, that's okay. I'll wait outside while you wash.”

Draco tightened his hold on the blanket, and Potter seemed to get the message. He nodded once, then he pulled Draco into another hug.

“I'm so sorry that this happened to you,” Potter whispered, his voice rough with anguish. “I'm _so_ sorry. This was all my fault. I asked Hermione how to help you, and Ron saw the letter. I didn't betray you, but I did, and...God, Draco, I am just... _so_ sorry.”

Draco found himself marginally relieved that Potter had not betrayed him, though a tiny part of his mind struggled to completely believe it. At the same time, he found it more difficult than he would have anticipated to completely wrap his mind around what Potter had said.

_Draco._

He had called him by his first name.

It sounded strangely soothing to hear it on Potter's lips, but Potter himself did not seem to realize the gravity of what he had just said. Instead, he pulled back slowly, summoned the pair of pyjamas Draco had worn the last time he was there, and offered him a small smile as he set them down on the closed toilet seat, and left him alone in the bathroom.

Draco immediately locked the door, but thankfully Potter did not protest this as he slowly, somewhat reluctantly, dropped the blanket and slipped into the hot water.

For the first hour or so, Draco did not really wash himself, but instead stared into space and tried to process what had happened, but he found that allowing his mind to slip into a blissful blank was easier, and more soothing. Silent tears streaked his cheeks as he sat there, shivering a little despite the warmth of the bath, and he reached for the hair potion with shaking hands, determined to show himself—if not Potter as well—that those disgusting people had not truly broken him.

When Draco finally made it out of the bathroom, his hair still a little damp and dressed in the pyjamas that had been left out, he found Potter waiting for him on the sofa with a cup of tea. He offered Draco a warm smile, and stood up, reaching for the blond's hands.

“Come over here,” Potter encouraged, “just for a minute. I have something for you, then you can rest.”

After Potter's show of trust in leaving him alone in the bathroom, Draco found it easy to follow his lead. He allowed Potter to guide him over to the sofa, where he coaxed Draco down onto it, but instead of sitting alongside him, he circled the piece of furniture until he was standing directly at Draco's back.

“All right, just relax,” Potter said consolingly, “I just have a little hair potion here that Severus thinks you'll like, and you're supposed to apply it to wet hair...”

Draco did not move while he listened to the soft _pop!_ of a cork coming out of a bottle, then a moment later Potter's fingers were raking through his hair, massaging something into his locks that was making his scalp tingle pleasantly he closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling, but immediately his mind was assaulted by images of Weasley and the others. He quickly opened his eyes again.

“Okay,” Potter said, his voice soft and soothing, with his fingers still buried in Draco's hair, “nearly done. And...” he heard Potter mutter an incantation, and his hair was immediately dry. Draco reached up and started a little at how soft it felt, then shifted his gaze up to Potter's face.

“You're welcome,” Potter said with a smile, then moved to coax Draco to his feet. “Come on, even if you don't feel tired, I'd like for you to lie down—you've been through a lot.”

With a protective arm around Draco's waist, Potter led him out of the sitting room and down the hall to his old bedroom. It was only then that Draco realized just how exhausted he was, and when he laid down, he could already feel sleep beginning to take hold.

“Just rest, Draco,” Potter said as his fingers disappeared into his hair, stroking it lightly. “I'll protect you, I promise.”

Draco reached up, and took Potter's hand in his own. His voice still lost, he tugged on the limb, eyes wide and imploring.

Potter blinked, confused at first by the silent request, but with another insistent tug he seemed to understand, and offered Draco a small, warm smile. He got up without hesitation, and lay down next to Draco in the tiny bed, one arm draped across his middle protectively.

“Rest, Draco,” Potter repeated softly, “I'll keep you safe.”

 


	14. Silence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be March 8th. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Fourteen – Silence

 

Harry lay with Draco for so long that he lost count of the minutes. It could have been an hour, or two, or three, but strangely, when Harry held Draco like this, time lost all meaning.

_Why is it that I find him so lovely now, and I never noticed it back in school?_ Harry wondered as his fingers gently carded through Draco's silky locks, and bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing out loud. _Maybe 'cause we were too busy trying to get each other killed or expelled...though the same can be said for whatever this thing is between me and Severus, too...it's just a big jumble of weird feelings for two people instead of just one._

Harry tightened his arm around Draco, and cuddled closer. The sleeping young man did not seem to mind the embrace, and instead of sounding uncomfortable, he let out a small sigh, and like a sleepy kitten, and buried his face in Harry's chest. Harry smiled to himself, and gently propped his chin against the top of Draco's head, holding him close.

A small, pointed cough sounded suddenly from the doorway, and Harry turned a little to see Severus standing there with an amused smirk upon his face. Harry felt himself flush with embarrassment as he reluctantly let go of Draco and sat up, making his way over to Severus on tiptoe.

“Your friends have all been arrested,” Severus whispered after Harry had stepped out into the hall and closed the door, while Severus nodded towards the room. “How is he?”

“Good—it's good that they were arrested, I mean,” Harry replied with a frown. “So help me, Severus, I _swear_ I'll do everything I can to make sure that they don't get out.” To the older man's latter question, Harry glanced back at the door with a frown. “I don't know how he is, though. He's not talking.”

“Do you mean not speaking about the event itself?”

“No,” Harry replied, “I mean _not talking_. At _all_. He's been mute ever since we got here. When he asked me to lie with him, he didn't ask me with words, he just...he tugged on my hand with this puppy-dog look in his eyes until I did it...I think he's in shock.”

“It's not too surprising, after all he's been through,” Severus mused while he motioned to Harry to follow him away from Draco's room. Harry followed him into the sitting room, and they sat down together upon the settee. Severus rested a hand on Harry's knee, a familiar touch that was both strange and enticing at once, though Harry hardly thought _now_ was an appropriate time to indulge himself when Draco was suffering so much. “I am afraid my knowledge of the psychology behind this kind of muteness is limited, so I will need to do some research to find out what I can do to help him.”

“Can I do anything?” Harry asked uncertainly, “I want to help him—make this right.”

“Go to his mother,” Severus replied, “bring her here. I shall provide a sleeping draught for Lucius, so that she will not need to worry about him while she is gone. Tell her that Draco was assaulted, but mention nothing of the sexual element of the attack.”

“I'm starting to feel like The Grim,” Harry said with a wince as he stood up reluctantly. “I'm always the bearer of bad news. It's a wonder his mum doesn't hate me...”

“I shall watch over Draco until you return,” Severus said by way of response, and Harry's frown deepened.

“Yeah, I bet you will,” Harry replied sourly, and Severus chuckled.

“Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Mr Potter?” Severus asked as he stood fluidly, one hand falling to Harry's back. He paled a little at the implication.

“What? No, of course not!” Harry replied with a sputter, but Severus did not appear to be fooled. Instead, he arched a brow at Harry, and the hand at his back began to inch slowly downward until he cupped Harry's arse in one hand.

“Are you telling me the truth, Harry?”

Harry felt his face burn with embarrassment, and he looked away from the older man. Severus however was not having it, and caught Harry's chin with his free hand, forcing him to look back at Severus.

Harry felt his knees go weak as he met Severus's eyes, and he bit his lip, uncertain what Severus wanted of him, or what was going to happen next.

Severus cradled his chin gently, and leant in to kiss Harry lightly. It was barely the lightest brush of lips, but it made Harry feel as though his entire body had been set aflame. He whimpered, longing and uncertainty rushing through him in equal measure as he returned the light kiss.

“I don't understand how this could possibly work,” Harry murmured as he gazed up at Severus. “When you kiss me and when I hold Draco...I feel the same thing. This...this... _completion_. But then when Draco looks at you, or I see you two snogging, I get so _jealous._ How can a relationship work between the three of us with that sort of jealousy?”

“I had hoped to save this conversation for when Draco was _not_ a complete emotional wreck, but perhaps it was foolish to put it off for so long,” Severus said with a soft sigh. “Come sit with me, Harry.”

Severus tugged Harry back towards the settee, and he followed the older man's lead without complaint, though the miserable frown never left his face. When Severus looked at him, he cracked a faint smile—perhaps the closest Severus had ever come to a broad grin—and touched Harry's cheek gently.

“Never in a thousand lifetimes did I ever think I would fall for the petulant Gryffindor brat of my former enemy...” Severus trailed off and shook his head. “No matter. What ties us together now is our concern for Draco. However, I was foolish enough to forget the circumstances of your upbringing. You need to feel cared for as much, if not moreso than Draco does. You are used to caring for people, but not being _cared for_.”

“I don't need to be cared for,” Harry said on reflex more than anything else, and he felt his cheeks darken as he looked away from the older man. The idea of being _cared for_ was a strange one. He'd always been self-sufficient and independent. Why would Severus think that Harry needed to be taken care of? Did he think that he was weak?

“I think that you do,” Severus countered, his large hand pressing to the side of Harry's neck before it disappeared into his hair, stroking the unruly locks lightly. Harry groaned as he shut his eyes and leant into the touch—it felt _amazing_. “I think it would do you a world of good to pass over control to someone else, and just lie back and _enjoy_ yourself for once.”

“Someone like _you,_ maybe?” Harry asked. He'd meant for his tone to be accusing, but Severus's gentle touches were doing their work remarkably, and the words escaped him as a relaxed slur as he his eyelids fluttered while he tried to open them and glare at the older man, but he couldn't quite manage it.

“Yes, someone like me,” Severus purred as he leant in and kissed Harry deeply.

The kiss was as all-encompassing as every other one that Severus had bestowed upon him. Harry felt his mind grow dull, and it was as though his brain had been replaced by a dense sort of fog. Harry reached for him, but Severus responded by curling a hand around his wrist and pinning it to the back of the sofa gently. Harry squirmed, unused to being held down in such a capacity, and Severus immediately let go of his wrist, but Harry still got the hint, and did not raise it again.

Severus's mouth deviated from Harry's, licking its way along his jaw and down the side of his throat, biting and tugging on the flesh he found there, not enough to bruise, but just enough to elicit a groan of pleasure from the younger man.

“S-Sev...rus...” Harry panted, his mind still blinded by the pleasure wrought from such a simple act, “Ar-aren't I suppose to be...”

“Shh,” Severus whispered as he moved to kiss him again, “we have time enough for this...”

Severus kissed him again, pulling lightly on Harry's bottom lip with his teeth, one hand still nestled in his hair while the other dropped to his hip and coaxed the younger man slowly into his lap. Harry went willingly, and silently marvelled how strangely _right_ it felt to be perched in Severus's lap like this.

_How weird that I'd find so much comfort from someone I spent so much time hating..._ Harry thought with amusement, smiling inwardly as his own hands found Severus's shoulders, and moved to trail through his long locks, no longer oily, but soft and sleek.

_And not just Severus, but Draco too..._ Harry thought with the same amused and baffling note to it, but at the mere thought of the other young man's name he froze, pulling back from Severus with widened eyes.

“What's wrong, Harry?” Severus asked, his brow arching a little, “are you hurt?”

“No, it's not that,” Harry replied uncertainly, struggling to ignore the way his cheeks tinted pink as he glanced away from the older man and towards the hall that led to the bedrooms. “It's just...it feels wrong, somehow...doesn't it?” Severus stared at him with a blank look, and Harry quickly elaborated, “I mean, Draco's laid up in bed, _traumatized_ after something my so-called friends did to him, and we're out here... _snogging_. Does that seem right to you?”

“It doesn't seem particularly _wrong_ ,” Severus pointed out while he arched a brow at Harry. “Is there something else we should be doing? Lamenting over his bedside? Crying and holding his hand?”

“There's no need to be facetious,” Harry replied with a frown, “but I really think I should get to his flat and speak to his mum, and you said that I should do that, remember?”

“Hmm, make you go speak with Narcissa, or take you to bed...” Severus mused, his hand moving to Harry's cheek as he spoke, and chuckled when Harry flushed a deep pink. “I am afraid my common sense got away from me, it's an unfortunate side effect of associating myself with you.”

“You always blame me for stuff like that, you realize.”

“When it's always your fault, who else would I blame?”

“Maybe yourself, for being unable to resist my masculine wiles?”

“I can resist your _masculine wiles_ quite easily, Mr Potter,” Severus remarked, and Harry grinned as he leant in for one last kiss.

“We'll just have to see about that, won't we?” Harry asked as he stood up reluctantly. “I really should go, though, I want his mum to be here when he wakes up...”

“Harry, one last thing,” Severus said, catching his hand just as he began to turn, and he refocused his gaze on Severus, eyebrows high and curious, given that the older man had shifted from his usual tone of voice to something more businesslike.

“What?”

“When you return with Narcissa, I wish to inform her of Draco's drug use.”

Harry's eyes widened.

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Harry asked uncertainly. “I—I mean...once Draco finds out who told her, he'll never trust you again.”

“It's a risk I will have to take, I think,” Severus replied with a self-assured tone to his voice. “It is difficult to say with his apparent silence, but I think he still believes he can manage his addiction, like a functioning alcoholic might. I think a shock like this may help him to realize it is not just _him_ he is hurting with his actions, but his family and loved ones as well.”

“You're the expert,” Harry replied uncertainly, “but for the record, I think that this is a monumentally _bad_ idea...”

Severus did not respond to the remark, but let Harry go as he stood up. He straightened his robes, and offered Severus one last valedictory nod before he headed for the door.

 

~*~

 

When Draco woke, he felt groggy and dirty, like a layer of grime had been affixed to his skin while he slept. The spot that Harry had been lying when he'd fallen asleep was empty and cold, giving Draco the impression that he had been gone for a while.

In addition to Harry's absence (which was making him more than a little anxious), Draco could not help but notice that the cottage was much noisier than it ought to be. It was not extremely loud by any means, but Draco could distinctly hear more than just one or two voices permeating the air, and one of them were most certainly _not_ Harry or Severus.

As Draco lay there, pondering to whom the voices might belong, the door creaked open and Harry's head poked inside. Upon seeing that Draco was awake, he broke into a small, weak smile, very much the same sort of expression one might adopt when something bad had happened, and they were planning to break the news to him gently.

“Awake, eh?” Harry asked, “how you feeling?”

Draco shrugged.

“I thought as much. Want a tea?” he asked as he slipped into the room, and the false brightness in his tone immediately put Draco on edge. Something was _very_ wrong—he could practically taste it. To the offer he shrugged again, but continued to eye Harry suspiciously as the brunet bustled out of the room, returning not five minutes later with a cup of tea in a black mug, along with a few pieces of chocolate-dipped shortbread.

“Your mum said that these were your favourite,” Harry said awkwardly as he set the mug and little plate down on Draco's night table. “She's here, your dad is back at your flat sleeping, so that your mum could come over and not worry about him too much.”

Draco picked up the proffered mug, and cradled the warm drink in his hands. He could not quite articulate why, but something about his mother being herestruck him as a bad omen. Harry's uncertain, nervous demeanour only added to this suspicion, but caging in his nervousness behind a blank expression felt safer somehow, and he toyed with the mug without looking up or drinking the warm beverage.

As if on cue, Draco heard a feminine voice—his mother's—cry out, followed by the sound of weeping. Draco's hands tensed around the mug, and Harry's anguished expression became even more pronounced.

“Draco,” Harry said in a rush as they both heard the commotion of two people getting up from down the hall, “I just want you to know that this _wasn't_ my idea. I tried to talk Severus out of it, but he thinks he's helping you...so, whatever happens, please understand that I tried to stop him, all right?”

The tramping of footfalls sounded in the hall, and Harry's expression shifted to panic. He stood up and turned around just as the door opened, and his mother peered inside. Harry stepped back, giving Draco some room, but he did not like how abandoned he felt by Harry's simple action.

Draco was happy to see her, but the deep look of betrayal upon her face told Draco that she did not feel the same. Draco lurched back in the bed, and bit his lip nervously. At her back stood Severus, his arms crossed, and a look upon the man's face that he knew only too well.

_This is for your own good._

Somehow, Draco seriously doubted that sentiment.

His mother stepped into the room haltingly. She looked mere moments from fainting, and far from the old aloof expression he was so used to seeing upon her face, now her distress was almost tangible, and he felt his stomach turn over with uncertainty.

_What on earth did Severus tell her?_

Severus and Narcissa entered the room after a long moment's hesitation, and Severus drew up a chair at Draco's bedside, enabling Narcissa to sit by his bed. His mother reached for Draco, and gently pried the untouched mug out of his hands before she covered them with her own, and offered the limbs a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, darling, why didn't you say something to me?” she asked sadly, and Draco looked away. He wasn't yet fully aware of what she meant, but he had so many things to be ashamed of that he knew that he had _very_ good reason for not telling her much of anything. His mother tried again. “Sweetheart, please, talk to me. Why would you poison your body like this? Why would you do something so terribly dangerous to yourself?”

_Ah, that._

Draco felt himself go suddenly pale, and he backed away from his mother, his eyes wide and fearful, but at the same time, he refused to meet her gaze.

“Sweetheart?” his mother prompted, her voice quivering a little with sadness and uncertainty. “Draco, please, why won't you talk to me?”

“I don't think he can,” a second voice said, and Draco glanced up to see Harry standing by the door and out of the way of the others, his arms crossed and a frown on his face.

Draco reached for Harry without hesitation, his hands opening and closing plaintively. Harry went to him at once, sitting on the edge of his bed, and Draco cuddled close to him. Draco closed his eyes as Harry's arms wrapped around him, and he felt an overwhelming sense of calm and safety wash over him. Harry stroked his back, and he heard him speaking, his tone angry and accusing, but the words did not register in his mind. He could feel the hand rubbing his back, the other coiled around his front and holding him close, making it clear to Draco that the angry words were not directed at him.

Draco allowed his mind to drift, thinking of nothing save for the warm safety of Harry's arms, and how he never wanted to leave them. He did not know how much time had passed, but when he next opened his eyes, his mother was leaning forward again, arm outstretched, and he felt his mind begin to crack at the edges. It was far too much, and he found that he hadn't the strength to even move away from the offending limb. He stared ahead, unseeing, allowing his mind and body to go blank and limp respectively. There was a safety and a sense of peace in this refusal to react, and he watched, almost as though he was astrally projecting himself, as Harry eased him down on the bed, and then stepped between himself and his mother.

“I _told_ you,” Harry snarled at his mother, “ _don't_ touch him. He's a total emotional wreck right now, and you're not helping things.”

“I am his _mother_ , Mr Potter,” Narcissa snarled back just as angrily. “You do not tell me how to handle my own son.”

“Oh yes I do, especially when what you're doing is hurting him,” Harry growled. “Did you not see him? You reached for him and he just _checked out_ , like he was dead. He's locked away in his own mind, _traumatized_ by what's happened to him, and you're making it worse! I would have thought after everything with Lucius, you'd know better.”

“How _dare_ you!” Narcissa snarled as she jumped to her feet. “You have been out of our lives for _six_ years, Mr Potter. You do not know my son any better than you know me or my husband. You are the _last_ person who knows what he needs.”

“I think I am,” Harry countered, “I'm the only one here thinking of Draco, not of him being _difficult_ , or doing this for _attention_.” Harry glared at Narcissa pointedly, and she returned the expression without hesitation. “I'll make this simple for you, and I only have one rule: Do not touch Draco. You can _see_ him freaking out at it if you bothered to look, and you're not doing him any favours by forcing yourself on him. In fact, you're making it way worse.”

“Harry, that's enough,” Severus cut in, but Harry appeared to not have heard him. He stood firmly between Draco and his mother, like Cerberus at the gates of the Underworld.

“What is _wrong_ with you two?” Harry demanded angrily, “can't you see you're hurting him?”

“We are doing no such thing, Mr Potter,” Narcissa replied, her tone adopting a note of frustration to it. “He's just not speaking, and he needs someone to get through to him—someone _close_ to him, like his family. Not _you_.”

“And you think the key to that is to push, and push, and _push_ until he's hidden so far inside his mind that he never comes out?” Harry demanded angrily, spreading his arms to further shield Draco from view. “He's been through more than enough without you lot making it _worse.”_

Harry's eyes fell to Severus. His gaze changed from blindingly angry to plaintive. Severus frowned, but inclined his head.

“Narcissa,” he said, “I do not think Mr Potter is to be reasoned with right now. Come into my sitting room, and I shall speak with him.”

Pointedly ignoring Narcissa's protests, Severus very gently eased her to her feet and shepherded her towards the door. He turned back, offering Harry a nod, and shut the door firmly behind him.

Harry's entire body seemed to sag with relief, and he turned back to Draco with a warm smile on his face, though it fell when Draco did not respond. He sat down on the edge of the bed again, and he watched Draco intently as he reached forward tentatively, his fingers twitching and hand freezing every few inches, until the limb finally fell to Draco's hair, and stroked the blond locks gently.

“Are you even in there, Draco?” Harry asked, his voice laced with hopelessness as he moved the hand from Draco's hair to trace the shape of his face. Draco looked up at him, his skin tingling in the wake of Harry's fingers. He stared at Harry, feeling a strange sense of peace in watching him. Moreover, Harry did not appear at all unnerved by his staring, and instead responded to it with a warm smile.

Harry lay down in the same way that he had when he had first brought Draco to Severus's home, and continued to stroke his hair and touch him gently, comfortingly. The softest of whimpers escaped from Draco unbidden as he lay there, causing Harry to inhale sharply in surprise as he shuffled closer and buried his face in Harry's chest, and wept.

Harry said nothing, and just held him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just want to impress on those of you who might be on the more impatient side that kind of mutism that Draco is suffering from right now can take months, if not years to recover from in real life. While in the coming chapters (I have up to chapter 19 written at the moment) I did my best to have things move ahead smoothly and not have it drag, it will be a long time before Draco talks again, as in probably 10-12 chapters, at least. This is not an attempt to make you feel bad about being impatient for all of them to jump into bed together, but just to make clear that I am trying to make this realistic but not boring at the same time, so it will be a while yet before we get all three into bed together, BUT that is not to say that there will be no slashy bits-there will definitely still be slashy bits :D


	15. The Protector and The Betrayer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be March 15th. Enjoy!

Chapter Fifteen – The Protector and the Betrayer

 

_Dear Senior Auror Brathwaite,_

_Due to unforseen circumstances, I need to take a leave of absence from the office to care for a loved one who has fallen ill._

_I apologize for the short notice, but this came on quite suddenly, and I am afraid that at the moment, I cannot leave home, or leave this loved one alone._

_Thank you for your understanding,_

_Harry Potter_

 

_Hermione,_

_I need any information you have on how to help someone who abruptly stopped talking from something bad happening to them. I don't care if it's muggle or wizarding information, I'm just a little out of my depth, and my usual fountain of knowledge has run dry._

_Thanks,_

_Harry_

 

Harry read and reread both letters over a second time(the short note to his neighbour asking him to care for his animals already sent off), and while the first sounded fine to him, the letter to Hermione continued to give him pause. Was it really okay to ask for her advice about this after what had happened? Would she be cross with him for intervening, and would she be on Ron's side regardless? Harry wasn't certain.

While Harry fretted over the letters, Draco was resting against his side, reading over his shoulder (though Harry wasn't entirely sure of this, given that his eyes hadn't moved) the blond's mouth set in a small frown, and as Harry glanced at him, he felt his heart ache with hopelessness. Draco seemed to have imprinted on him like some sort of really quiet duckling, and Harry hated that he had no idea how to help him. His condition would not be solved with shoving a wand up his nose, stabbing him with a sword, or destroying Horcruxes—this was something much more precarious and delicate, and Harry refused to do anything that might make it any worse.

Except he had no idea how to make it better, either.

“What do you think?” Harry asked Draco as he motioned to the letters, though he did not really expect a response. Draco stared ahead blankly, unresponsive, while Severus sat across from them, his arms crossed and a scowl firmly set upon his face.

“You're coddling him,” Severus accused, his tone sour, and Harry frowned.

“I am _not_ coddling him,” he retorted as he set down the letters to direct his full attention at the older man. “He needs patience, not you lot trying to _scare_ him out of his silence.”

“And _you're_ enabling him by having these silly one-sided discussions,” Severus replied, “you're letting him stay silent, and _that_ is not helping him, either.”

“It makes him feel safe, Severus, I think that that's what he needs right now.”

“What he _needs_ is to _tell_ us what he wants, and stop being silly about it.”

“That's rich, coming from someone who not too long ago gave me almighty hell for not knowing anything about depression as an illness,” Harry countered, his frown deepening, but at the same moment he felt Draco shiver next to him, and he swallowed the rest of his angry response. He moved a hand to Draco's back, and changed his tone to something more gentle as he resumed speaking. “Severus, I have no idea what's sparked this attitude of yours, but it's _you_ who is nothelping. I will take Draco back to my flat right this second if you don't knock it off.”

Harry caught Severus's eyes and held his gaze determinedly. He wanted to make sure that Severus knew he wasn't joking, and after nearly a full thirty seconds of staring, Severus looked away with a frustrated growl.

“Fine, then, keep up this ridiculous attitude of yours.” He jumped up and stormed away towards his study, and slammed the door loudly behind him, making both Harry and Draco jump slightly.

“How much you wanna bet that he's gone to consult his books to try and prove that I'm wrong?” Harry asked Draco, but he didn't seem to be paying attention to Harry, and instead his gaze was trained downwards, his fingertips tracing the stitching on Harry's jumper with idle, lazy movements. “Yeah,” Harry said after a moment, “me too.”

In truth, Harry had no idea if these one-sided conversations were helping, but strangely, it made Harry feel hopeful. Maybe if he tried to engage Draco enough, he'd eventually start talking again.

Perhaps it was a fool's hope, but after everything, Harry had to be grateful for one thing—at least like this, with him so keen to stay close to Harry, they didn't need to worry about him running off to get more drugs.

Harry grimaced at that thought, and his stomach churned with a confusing mixture of guilt and relief. Without his voice, how was Draco supposed to tell Harry when he was suffering from withdrawal?

_Hermione said this kind if withdrawal is all in the mind, and he'll get depressed,_ Harry recalled suddenly, _will that make his silence thing even worse?_ he wondered, and compulsively shifted closer to Draco. The _last_ thing he wanted was for Draco to suffer any more, and he hated how helpless he felt in being able to stop it.

 

When Harry was fairly certain that Draco was asleep and not simply staring into space, he got up as lightly as he could and borrowed Severus's owl to send one of his letters—the one to his boss supervisor. When he turned back around, he felt a strange fluttering in his chest at the sight of Draco curled up around one of the sofa's throw pillows, a few strands of hair shading his eyes as he slept, all marks of his deep stress and anxiety gone from his face—for the moment, at least.

Beyond Draco, the dark silhouette of Severus Snape appeared in the hallway. He lifted his hand and curled his finger towards himself in a clear sign of _come here_. The dark look on his face, not quite anger, but something quite close, made Harry feel as though he was being asked to walk right into an iron maiden. Despite all his senses practically screaming at him to _not_ move, Harry forced himself forward and to towards his other lover.

_Though there's nothing particularly_ lovely _about him right now,_ Harry thought sourly, _I swear, one wrong move against Draco, and I'll hex him twelve ways from Sunday..._

His protectiveness must have shown on his face, given that Severus rolled his eyes as he grabbed Harry's wrist and tugged him away.

Harry let out a small squeak of surprise at the sudden movement, but kept his protests to himself until Severus had finished dragging him down the hallway and into the study.

The study was the only room in Severus's small house that Harry would classify as _messy_. The bookcases were stuffed with books, scrolls, and sheets of parchment, some of which were so old that they glittered with protective charms to guard against the open air. More stacks of parchment littered a tiny writing desk, and one narrow case at the back of the room was stuffed full of rare potions ingredients, some of which he recognized from confiscating them from dark potioneers back when he was a more active Auror.

Harry did not have much time to observe the room however, as Severus dragged him inside and immediately pressed him back against the door.

“I would beg you to _stop_ being such a ridiculous mother hen to Draco, but then one cannot expect miracles,” Severus said snidely, and Harry frowned.

“I don't understand why you're being such a prat about this,” Harry replied, “he needs our support. Are you just jealous of him getting all my attention? Because I can change that if you just ease up on him. He already looks at you like you're a total betrayer, so whenever he starts talking again, I expect you'll get an earful.”

“I am _not_ jealous,” Severus growled, and Harry raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “You are not helping him by coddling him this much. He needs to be pushed into talking again—”

“—no,” Harry interrupted, “he needs to feel safe and protected. Pushing him is exactly what led to this mess in the first place!”

“ _Merlin save me from stubborn Gryffindors..._ ” Severus growled as he shifted forward, all but blanketing Harry with his body, an action which made Harry feel strangely dizzy—it had been a while since he and Severus had been close, given their near-constant bickering over Draco's condition, and as a result, it made Harry both aroused and fearful, something that up to the present moment Harry had thought were mutually exclusive emotions. “I am _not_ trying to throw Draco into the middle of the bloody Atlantic without so much as a paddle, Harry. But we _do_ need to push him towards speaking again. It can take _years_ for people to recover from selective mutism, which is why I have been saying that we need to encourage him to speak, not just coddle him as you have been doing.”

“Years?” Harry asked uncertainly, and Severus nodded his head once.

“Yes, _years_. Draco may not speak for a very long time, which is why it is _imperative_ that we not let him fall into a belief that his silence is acceptable,” Severus replied firmly and Harry frowned. “What now?”

“I just feel like it might be too soon after everything. I'm afraid of scaring him off, figuratively, I mean. It looks like I'm the only one who can get close to him, and I don't want him to feel like he has no one on his side...”

Severus opened his mouth to argue, but almost immediately slumped forward in defeat. Despite this, he still looked angry.

“You playing the part of Draco's champion, so to speak, may not be a bad idea,” he conceded, and Harry stared, open-mouthed, following Severus's statement—it was likely as close to _I'm sorry, you're right_ as the man had ever gotten, but before Harry could remark on it, Severus pressed forward. “But do try to remember that you are not the only one here who cares for him. Before Weasley and his cohorts got to him, he was many things, but he was so full of life, and I wish to see that version of him again.” Severus paused, one of his hands moving to the base of Harry's throat, and he leant in for a gentle, tender kiss. “Please do not shut me out again.”

“I'm sorry,” Harry mumbled as he got on his toes to kiss Severus again. The older man seemed happy to reciprocate, his hand dropping to Harry's arse none-too-subtly, and he could not help but chuckle at the obvious hint. “I know I get a little... _crazy_ when it comes to Draco. It's just...So much bad stuff has happened to him, and so much of it is my fault, I just want to protect him from anything else bad happening...does that make sense?”

“It does,” Severus said as he nodded, and leant in to kiss Harry again. “You have a lot of work ahead of you, Harry, Draco will be like an infant at first, more or less in constant need of you...do you think you can handle it?”

“I'll make myself handle it,” Harry replied with absolute certainty. “I won't fail him again.”

As if on cue, Harry heard a soft shuffling in the hall, and the soft creaking of doors opening and closing.

“Draco must've woken up,” Harry said, and glanced from the door to Severus. “Duty calls, I guess?”

“I would recommend that you try and remind him that I, too, wish to help him, but in that respect, I think it would be wise to not push,” Severus said softly to keep Draco from overhearing. “It may take time for him to trust anyone again, and if you push too hard, he may no longer trust you, either.”

_That is literally what I have been telling him for the last week, but whatever_ , Harry thought with mild annoyance as he stared at the older man, but decided that in the interest of not leaving Draco alone for too long, he thought it best to not comment on it as he exited the study, where he found Draco pacing in the hall, his expression seeming to flicker between his usual blank look and visible agitation.

“Hey, I'm here,” Harry said with a small smile, and immediately Draco rushed to him, and linked his arms around Harry's waist. Harry chuckled softly as he brought a hand to Draco's back, and he felt him shiver a little.

“It's okay, Draco, it's okay,” Harry murmured as he leant in to kiss his cheek. “Come on, let's go have a sit-down, eh? Would you like that?”

Predictably, Draco did not respond, but he allowed Harry to lead him away from the hall and back to the sitting room.

 

~*~

 

Draco cuddled into Harry's side they moment they'd sat down, and the brunet's hand immediately fell to Draco's back, rubbing along his bony spine, and never once complaining as Harry offered him a warm smile, as though there was nowhere else he'd rather be.

A soft tapping of footsteps sounded from the hall, and Draco felt his stomach muscles tense at the sight of Severus approaching them. Draco shifted closer and buried his face into the crook of Harry's neck with a small shiver as he tried to conceal himself from the older man. Once, Draco would have had no reason to fear his former professor, but he had proven in telling his mother about his drug habits that he could not be trusted, and thus he hid away from the betrayer in Harry's safe embrace.

“Don't be too hard on Severus,” Harry murmured, and Draco tensed, but Harry ignored the small physical tell as he pressed forward. “He's scared for you, and he's the type that starts shouting when he gets scared. He's not trying to hurt you, he wants to help you. He misses you, Draco.”

_He misses me?_ Draco wondered as he peered out from his hiding place at the older man. He stood in the doorway of the sitting room, his arms crossed, and a scowl on his face.

_He doesn't_ look _like he misses me,_ Draco thought as he shifted closer to Harry, so close in fact that he was practically in his companion's lap. _He just looks angry at me._

 

“—not what you think it is,” Harry said suddenly, and Draco blinked with confusion at his words, in particular the way they seemed to burst out of nowhere, as though Draco had been watching telly on mute, and someone had suddenly turned on the sound. “It's not him _being silly_ , it's him trying to cope with all the shit he's been put through. You _know_ that, Severus.”

Draco blinked hard again, and shifted his gaze to the clock on the wall.

_It was noon_ , Draco thought as he fidgeted nervously, _why does it say half past three? I sat down with Harry not even five minutes ago. Where did three hours go?_

Draco reached for Harry's hand, his eyes wide and fearful. Harry turned to him, and his eyes widened a little upon seeing Draco's alarm. His grip on Harry tightened a little as the brunet turned back to Severus, though whatever he said next Draco could not make out; it was foggy and muted, like he was hearing it through a wall.

“Come on, Draco,” Harry said suddenly while he wrapped an arm around Draco's waist, coaxing him to his feet and out of the room. The moment they were alone, Draco all but threw himself at Harry, shivering a little as he clung to the brunet, and the faintest of whimpers escaped him as Harry wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back. “Hey, what's wrong?” Harry asked as they stood there, his voice gentle and devoid of any sharpness. “Come on, Draco, tell me what's the matter, please?”

_Please don't ask me that._

Draco whimpered again, and buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck, and Harry, in turn, tightened his arms around him.

“It's okay, Draco,” Harry murmured into his hair, “you're safe, and no one here will hurt you...”

Harry's words sounded terribly false to Draco, because given the chance, he was certain Severus would try to take Harry away from him, hurt him— _for his own good._

What a laughable concept.

 

Draco felt the soft down blanket that covered his bed beneath him, and it was only then that he realized that Harry had transported him to his bedroom.

Harry lay down next to him, bracketing Draco between the wall and his body. The act did not make him feel trapped, however. On the contrary, it made him feel safe.

“What's going on in that head, eh?” Harry murmured as he smiled at Draco warmly, and tapped the blond's temple lightly. “You all right in there?”

Draco frowned at the prompt, and curled into Harry's side, one arm draped across Harry's chest while the brunet curled an arm around his shoulders. The caring, gentle hold brought fresh tears to Draco's eyes as he stared across the room at the wardrobe that rested against the opposite wall, and watched it warp as his eyes glazed over.

_I don't really understand why Harry is even here,_ Draco thought as he blinked, the small action forcing the tears from his eyes, and they dripped onto Harry's T-shirt, leaving dark spots on the fabric. _He has no respect for what I do, or how I live. Why is he even here?_

_What if he leaves?_

A shuddering gasp slipped past Draco's lips at the mere idea, and he felt his panic give way to an overwhelming dizziness and nausea.

_Please don't leave me, Harry._

 

Draco was suddenly aware of the sensation of rocking, and when he blinked again, he realized that Harry was rocking him and rubbing his back. It was dark out, though Draco had been certain it had been mid-afternoon not long ago. Harry wasn't wearing his glasses either, his eyes were distinctly bloodshot, and there were a number of red marks on his throat that Draco did not recognize.

Draco paid little attention to Harry's words, but his fingers fell to the marks on Harry's throat. The brunet twitched, as though he was suddenly reminded of their presence, and lightning-fast, his hand closed over Draco's, stilling his movements.

“Gifts from Severus,” Harry murmured before he moved Draco's hand to his mouth and kissed the top of his knuckles in a strangely gentlemanly action. “He misses you, Draco. _We_ miss you. I know he can be a bit of a cranky arse, but remember how we were going to try that three-person-relationship thing? Tripod or whatever? We can't do that if you're hiding like this.”

The idea of Harry with Severus did not perturb him, but the idea of opening up to anyone else most certainly did. Draco remembered Severus, and remembered being happy with him at one time, but now the idea of going anywhere near the man after he'd divulged his secret to his mother was simply out of the question. He hadn't seen or heard from his mother since that disastrous reveal of one of his greatest secrets, and that made it painfully clear to him that she was too ashamed to see him again.

Draco bowed his head like a bird dipping its head beneath its wing, and held fast to Harry.

Unwavering in his support, Harry held onto him until he finally exhausted himself, and fell asleep.

 


	16. Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be March 22nd. Enjoy! :) Spacial thanks to my beta, Jess, for going over this chapter in full. <3 
> 
> **Possible Tigger Warning: References to Ableism**

Chapter Sixteen – Bed

 

Harry was perched upon Severus's sofa, as he so often was these days, a firm indent now in the place where he usually sat.

He spent a lot of time sitting with Draco at his side, his ever-silent companion, and even his feeble attempts to engage him, such as reading aloud or carrying out one-sided conversations yielded about as many results as Severus had predicted.

That is to say, none whatsoever. 

The day he had sent off his letter to Hermione, Harry had expected it to not take more than a day or two for her to respond. Maybe three at most, but certainly not six _weeks_.

And yet, here he was, on the cusp of June, and not a peep from her.

In that time, and in his desperation for some sort of help with Draco's condition, Harry had sent little more than a flurry of owls to her asking her for help, but no matter what he tried, Hermione never responded to his desperate requests.

And Harry _hated_ how anxious it was making him.

On top of everything, he got two separate letters on two different days, cementing, so to speak, the disaster that his life had become, as everything he cared for was systematically stripped away from him piece by piece.

 

_Potter,_

_You are a Trainee, and not a fully qualified Auror, therefore you are not eligible for paid leave. If you do not show up to the office within the next three days, your desk will be cleaned out. Consider yourself warned._

_S.A. B. Brathwaite_

Needless to say, Harry had not shown up, and the meagre contents of his desk that was not considered Ministry Property had been sent to Severus's cottage. The mere sight of it had made Harry's heart constrict with misery, and foolishly, he'd thought it couldn't get any worse.

But that was before the _second_ owl had shown up.

 

_Harry,_

_This is a letter that it pains me to write, but unfortunately it must be done._

_I am absolutely shocked and appalled that you would take the word of two Death Eaters over my own son—your best friend, in case you have forgotten, and cast him aside so shamelessly._

_I do not know what you and_ him _told the Magical Law Enforcement people to ensure that Ron was arrested, but I know that my child would never take part in the disgusting acts that he has been accused of._

_Unless you redact your accusations and drop the charges laid against my son immediately, do not bother coming round any longer; until then, you are most_ un _welcome._

_Arthur_

In truth, Harry had found himself not overly surprised that he had been cut off from the Weasleys, though he had hoped, perhaps a little foolishly, that maybe they would see sense, rather than blindly assume that Ron was innocent.

_Maybe I'm just too much of an optimist,_ Harry thought sourly as he crumpled up the letter and pitched into the fire.

His sour attitude had greatly distressed Draco—not that Severus really noticed.

Draco seemed only comfortable in showing emotion when he was completely alone with Harry, and even then the reactions Harry got from him were tiny, and almost completely unnoticeable, unless he was looking for them.

When Harry had received the letter from Arthur, Draco, as always, had been curled into his side. Harry watched as Draco began to fidget a little. He would shift, wait nearly a full minute, then shift again. He would open and close his fists, and his brow would furrow momentarily, and a faint look of unease would flicker across his face.

Harry turned and planted a soft kiss against Draco's temple, then wrapped his arms around the blond. He was so childlike, and the fierce pull Harry felt to protect him had grown with every day that had passed them by. This made it harder and harder for Harry to do anything that might distress the young man, which, he knew, Severus had not failed to notice as the days snailed by.

 

“He needs to start communicating with us, Harry,” Severus had said quietly after Harry had taken Draco to bed one night, and the pair were sitting together upon the sofa. Harry curled into Severus's side comfortably, as their tea tray lay forgotten on the coffee table. “The longer you enable his silence, the harder it will be for him to come out of it.”

“I know that,” Harry mumbled sourly as he shifted a little to rest more comfortably against Severus's side. “But I'm just so scared of making things worse by pushing too soon...”

“We will need to start small— _very_ small,” Severus said as one of his hands moved to Harry's back and began to rub the taut muscles in gentle circles. “I will go to muggle London tomorrow and see what I can find for BSL or Makaton sign books...”

“Maka-what?”

“ _Makaton,_ you ingrate,” Severus growled, and Harry smiled at the insult. Strangely, coming from Severus, an insult felt as warming to him as a declaration of love. “It is a simplified version of sign language that is used with people who struggle with speech. It is sometimes easier than general sign language.”  
  
“Are there no deaf people in the wizarding world?” Harry asked curiously, and Severus frowned.

“Despite all claims to the contrary, the wizarding world is terribly behind the times when it comes to aiding people with special needs, like Draco,” Severus explained with a note of bitterness in his voice. “It is believed by many that a spell or potion is the answer to all one's problems—both magical and medical—and anything that cannot be fixed is shunted into a wing at St Mungo's, and forgotten.”

Immediately, Neville's parents popped into Harry head, and he frowned.

“So there is no help at _all_ for people who are not fully able-bodied, like a deaf or blind person?” Harry asked, and Severus shook his head.

“Very little,” Severus replied, again with a sour note to his voice. “If it is a mundane ailment, like a child born deaf, blind, or malformed in some way, many times it is fixed magically, and the child may never know that they had any sort of ailment the general population would view as a defect. _Many_ people within the muggle world disagree with this mindset, and there are more than a few half-bloods who have pulled their children from the wizarding world completely in order to seek help for them in a more welcoming environment.”

“That's...horrible,” Harry said, and glanced towards the hall that led to Draco's room. “People really think that way?”

“Many do,” Severus replied with a small, sad nod. “Back to the point, however...I shall find some resources for Draco, notebooks, sign books, communication flash cards...we will need to start small, and you will need to be the one who gives these things to him.”

“Me? Why?”

“At the moment, you are the one who Draco trusts,” Severus explained with a grimace, as though he was loath to admit that Draco no longer trusted anyone but Harry. “You are his _only_ link to the world, Harry, and the _only_ one who has any chance of getting through to him. I am hoping that his trust in me will return in time, but for the moment, it all depends on you.”

“So, in essence, I am the Chosen One again,” Harry filled in as he smiled humorlessly, and Severus chuckled.

“Yes, indeed you are.”

Severus paused as he slipped one of his hands into his trouser pocket and withdrew a beaded bracelet of round silver, black, and purple stones. Harry knew immediately that it was a magical item when Severus placed it in his palm; he felt his skin tingle faintly the moment the piece of jewellery touched his skin, and a strange sense of overwhelming calm washed over him as he gazed at the thing.

“That is a bracelet made of Onyx, Obsidian, Hematite, and Amethyst,” Severus explained as Harry continued to stare at it. “I had it custom-made for Draco to aid in overcoming his substance abuse. It is not a cure by any means, but it should take the edge off, and help him move towards recovery instead of relapsing when you and I are not looking.”

Harry smiled warmly as he stared down at the bracelet, turning it over in his hands as he inspected it. It was lovely, beautifully crafted, and Harry could see it looking very nice on Draco's wrist.

“Thank you, Severus,” Harry said as he arched up and offered him a small kiss. “Should I tell him who it's from?”

“At the moment, I would advise against it. He still trusts only you, and may reject a gift from anyone else,” Severus replied, a hand moving to Harry's neck, stopping him from pulling back too soon, and kissed him again.

“You're a good man, Severus,” Harry murmured, and Severus chuckled again, tugging the younger man into his lap while his lips moved to a healing mark on his throat.

“Tell no one, I am quite content with being viewed as a prickly, unpleasant old man.”

Harry threw his head back and laughed, then moved in to kiss him again.

“I promise.”

“Come to bed?” Severus asked, and Harry let out a low moan of longing as he tilted his head back, exposing more of his throat to Severus, who took immediate advantage of this, and closed his mouth over an unmarked section of golden skin, nibbling gently, and Harry groaned.

“You have been Draco's caretaker night and day for six weeks,” he murmured against Harry's throat, his voice a low rumble that made the younger man shiver. “We have all the necessary monitoring charms in place that if he has a night terror, or any sort of distress, and we will know immediately. Be selfish, and come to bed with me. I _know_ that you want to.”

“You're a terrible influence, you know that?” Harry asked, and let out another small moan as Severus's large hand pressed into his jean-encased groin.

“Come to bed,” Severus repeated, this time without the requesting tone, and it sounded more like an order than anything else. “Should Draco need you, you will know it almost before he does.”

“All right,” Harry said with a small laugh, “you've convinced me.” He got up off the sofa and tugged Severus with him, grinning like a fool as he tucked the bracelet into his pocket while he leant in for another kiss. “Come on then, professor, _teach me a lesson_.”

Smirking, Severus wrapped an arm around Harry and led him down the hall and to his bedroom. Neither man had been paying the appropriate attention to their surroundings, but had they been, they may have noticed the tiny crack of Draco's ajar door, and the silvery eye that peered out at them as they passed.

 

~*~

 

Draco bit his lip as he watched Harry and Severus meander down the hall and towards the master bedroom.  Their arms were entangled around each other, Harry giggling softly as Severus pulled him close, and the older, usually dour man sported a small smile, one he used to grace Draco with often, both as Mr Schroeder, and later after Draco had discovered the truth.

Draco's hand, resting upon the frame of the door, curled into a fist. His dull nails scratched lightly against the wood as he tried to sort through his feelings towards what he was witnessing. He bit his lip, and stomped down on the whine that momentarily threatened to spill from his mouth.

_Harry deserves to be happy, and I knew they were together, but..._ Draco allowed the thought to peter out. Somehow, seeing them together made the knowledge of their involvement more real, and though he did not feel jealous at the sight of them together, Draco did feel distinctly left out.

Ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind that protested his next actions, Draco slipped out of his room and tip toed down the hall to the master bedroom, which had been left cracked open. Holding his breath, Draco peered inside.

Harry was sprawled out on the bed, his glasses off, set on the bedside table while he gazed up at Severus, his chest heaving and face flushed with clear desire.

Severus was towering over Harry, that same tiny smile upon his face, obscured somewhat by his curtain of hair. He pressed his palms into the duvet on either side of Harry's head, and leant in to kiss him.

Harry seemed to come alive at the simple show of affection. His arms shot up to wrap around Severus's neck, his back arched, pressing his body soundly against Severus's, while the older man coiled an arm around Harry's waist to hold him there.

Draco heard Severus murmur something, and Draco saw Harry shiver as he let out an audible whine.

“Please, Severus...” Harry moaned, and the sound made Draco tremble. He had never heard Harry sound so desperate, so needy—so _aroused_.

_Could I ever make him sound like that?_ Draco wondered, and he felt a warmth colour his cheeks at the thought. The idea of _trying_ wasn't abhorrent to him, and as Harry moaned again in response to something Severus was doing with his mouth, Draco felt his knees weaken, and he gripped tightly to the frame of the door to keep from toppling over.

Draco watched as Severus peeled off Harry's T-shirt, exposing his chest—a wide, delicious expanse of golden skin, matured in the years since their schooldays. The muscle was toned, with a sporadic scattering of dark, wiry hairs across the centre of his pectorals and down the centre of his chest before they disappeared into the top of the brunet's jeans. Spread out on the bed and eyes practically glowing with want, he looked downright _edible_.

Draco shivered a little as he watched Severus touch him. The older man's hands looked almost ghostly white in contrast with Harry's darker skin, his fingers idly tracing the firm definition of Harry's muscles while he murmured something to him, too softly for Draco to overhear. Harry shuddered, and arched his hips in an obvious hint.

Severus ignored him, and instead discarded his own outer robe, showing him to be dressed in a fitted black button-down shirt and matching trousers beneath it.

“Here is your first lesson, Harry,” Severus said, a little louder than before, “undress me.”

Draco swallowed thickly as he watched Harry reach up, trance-like, and begin to thumb open the buttons trailing down the front of Severus's shirt obediently. Draco had never seen Harry submit so readily to anyone, and it was rather amusing to see. Slowly, Severus's alabaster chest was exposed to both Harry and (from his hiding place) Draco, and he licked his lips unconsciously at the same moment that Harry did.

Severus's upper body was slender, his skin so pale it seemed to almost glow in the dimness of the room, but there was the faintest cut of definition to his muscle, as though he'd recently begun to try crafting some sort of body for himself over the bone. Harry, did not appear at all disappointed by what he saw, and he stared at Severus with a look of arousal and love, his lips twisted into a warm smile, and his hands brushed over the fair skin and sparse, dark hairs lovingly. He opened and closed his mouth several times, but could not seem to find the right words, and opted for kissing Severus instead.

The lovely vision of Harry and Severus together began to bend and warp. Draco blinked, and fat tears dripped down his cheeks. He reached up to wipe them away, and stared at his damp fingers for a long moment, lost in a haze on confusion.

_Why am I crying?_ Draco wondered as he lifted his gaze from his hand to the scene before him again. _There is nothing sad about this—it's beautiful. I don't understand._

In the moment that Draco had taken his eyes off them, Harry and Severus had progressed in their lovemaking, and Severus's hand now ended at the wrist, the limb buried in Harry's jeans and moving in a way that told Draco he was stroking the younger man gently, but with firm, sure movements. Harry was splayed out on his back, his head turned to the side, his arms laying haphazardly on either side of him, and his hips jerked weakly with every move of the older man's hand as he groaned softly.

“Please, Severus,” Harry begged weakly, “ _more_...”

_Harry sounds so lovely when he begs..._

“Oh, Harry,” Severus purred, “you beg so prettily. Perhaps I should tease you a little more...”

Draco smiled weakly at the thought that he and Severus were still so similar, despite all that had changed between them. The familiarity was almost a comfort, except, most unfortunately, it also reminded Draco starkly of what _had_ changed between them as well.

Draco forced away the unpleasant thoughts as he watched as Severus leant in close to whisper something else, too quietly for Draco to hear, but whatever it was elicited another moan from Harry as he squirmed on the bed and arched his hips pointedly, but never made a move to disrobe himself.

Severus's hand was still buried in Harry's trousers, and he was smirking down at the young man, the expression never softening, even as he leant in to kiss Harry again and again. In the dimness of the room, Draco could see the light from a bedside gas lap refract off their entwined tongues, their skin beginning to shine in the same way as they began to sweat.

“Enough,” Harry panted suddenly, breaking the kiss as he stared up at Severus with a familiar look of determination in his eye. “Severus, please, I want you to—I _need_ you in me.”

Harry's face flooded with colour as the plea slipped past his lips, but Severus did not tease him for his embarrassment. Instead, a lazy, predatory smile crossed his face as he leant in for another kiss, and at the same time he began to unbutton Harry's jeans, his movements fluid, like he had done this a thousand times before, and slowly peeled off the garment, exposing Harry's arse and erect cock to the night air.

Draco bit his lip as he watched Severus strip Harry, reminded once more of Schroeder as he watched. He had moved in exactly the same way, with the same fluid grace as a dancer, and it made Draco's chest ache as he longed for what he had lost.

Tears shone in his eyes again, and Draco rubbed them away roughly with the sleeve of his pyjama top. He desperately missed that closeness, but at the same time, the idea of seeking it Severus was nothing short of terrifying. He had betrayed him, after all, while Harry had protected him. To go to Severus was to risk pain, and he had had _more_ than enough of that to last him a lifetime.

“ _Severus_...” Harry keened, drawing Draco from his thoughts, watching as Harry arched his hips and moaned, and Draco heard the low vibrato of Severus's laughter as he took hold of one side of the young man's hip, and began to coax him onto his stomach. Harry went willingly, squirming impatiently as he pressed himself back into the older man insistently.

“So impatient,” Severus remarked, his hands smoothing over Harry's arse lovingly, making the younger man shiver. “Have you no forbearance?”

Harry snorted, and Severus's smirk widened. His mouth fell to Harry's shoulder, and he bit gently at the hollow of his throat, making him groan and press back against his mouth.

“Harder...” Harry said with a soft moan, while one of Severus's arms snaked around Harry's waist, holding him there.

“Why am I not surprised that the Boy Who Lived is aroused by pain?” Severus remarked, so softly that Draco almost didn't catch it.

“Call me that again and I'll reattach your bollocks to your forehead,” Harry mumbled, and once more pressed his arse back against Severus's hands. “ _Please_.”

Severus chuckled at the idle threat, but instead of answering, he reached for his wand.

Draco tucked himself into the corner between the door's frame and the wall, just barely peeking out at Severus and Harry as the older man flicked his wand, and Draco watched as Harry shivered, presumably as the suspected cleansing, lubrication, and preparation charms did their work.

“You know,” Harry said, his voice ringing with mild annoyance, “you don't need to use magic for _everything_ , preparing your lover by hand is generally a much more pleasant experience than using the charms...”

“Excuse me for wishing to jump to the main event,” Severus teased, and Harry laughed softly.

“Well, when you put it that way...”

Draco smiled despite himself as he watched Severus coax Harry's thighs apart, and he bit down again on the young man's shoulder again as he lined himself up with his entrance, and slowly eased himself in.

Harry bowed his head forward, burying his face in the duvet as he let out a low groan of both pain and pleasure. He shuddered, and Severus leant in to murmur something to Harry, too softly for Draco to hear, but he supposed it was a reassurance of some kind, given that a moment later he saw Harry's body visibly relax.

Draco felt it again as he watched the couple together—that longing to not just be with them in a sexual sense, but to simply be _with_ them—to be well enough, strong enough—for them.

_But do they even want me like that?_ Draco wondered, _am I anything more than just a charity case? I'm a prostitute—a whore. What if I get better, will they just let me go on my way, like nothing ever happened? Will it be back to that life again? Am I even worth caring for like that?_

Draco's dark thoughts brought with them another wave of anguish, and he refocused his attention on Severus and Harry. He felt mildly guilty for watching them like this, but at the same time, he couldn't tear himself away. Seeing Harry beneath Severus, moving so fluidly, against the older man as he thrust into Harry at a punishing pace, but never once did Harry protest it. Instead, he welcomed Severus into his body, almost like they were _meant_ to be together.

As the couple reached their peak, Severus's hand dropped to Harry's cock and stroked it to orgasm mere moments before Severus found his own release. They collapsed on the bed, both panting heavily, and Draco at last felt his fixation upon the couple's activities break, and he took a tentative step back, but not before a voice that was not his own slipped into his mind.

_There is room in this bed for you too, my beautiful boy_.

Panic, fear, and a distinct sense of nausea bubbled into Draco's mind. Without the benefit of his occlumency shields, which he had stopped implementing in recent years, Severus's voice bled into his mind easily, like a poison rushing through his veins, and destroying everything in its path.

Far from giving Draco any sort of warm feelings, the words made Draco ill.

Blind with panic, Draco turned away from the couple and ran back to his own bedroom as fast as his legs would carry him.


	17. Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be March 29th. Enjoy! :) (This chapter is a little shorter than I'd planned, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway :))

Chapter Seventeen – Gifts

 

Harry stepped into the sitting room, glanced back once into the hall to ensure that Draco was still sleeping—which he seemed to be doing a lot of lately—and levelled his gaze with Severus. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes into a glare, and the older man arched a brow at him.

“Something on your mind, Harry?”

“What did you do?” Harry demanded without preamble.

“Nothing that I am aware of, unless you are remarking on my slightly overcooked porridge this morning, but I do believe that that was _your_ fault for distracting me, and not mine.”

“I mean what did you do _to Draco_ , you git,” Harry clarified crossly. “Ever since this morning he hasn't been able to look at you, and the few times you so much as _glanced_ at him, he reacted like a spooked deer or something. So, to repeat: _what did you do_?”

“Would you believe that I acted foolishly, and in haste?”

“Yes.”

“No sympathy for your significant other, that's all I get? _Yes_?”

“Yes.”

Severus's mouth twitched into a small frown, and Harry watched as the the older man's aloof mask seemed to crack at the edges. He moved to run a hand through his hair in an action of deep stress, and for a moment, did not look towards Harry, but instead fixed his gaze on the sitting  room window, and the bright, sunny world beyond it.

“The night we first went to bed together, I used my Legilimency talents to speak to Draco,” Severus explained, and Harry cursed inwardly. He could definitely see Draco reacting badly to that. “I saw no other means to get through to him in a way that he might hear me. He ran, and did not give me time to reassure him that I was not viewing his thoughts or memories, but merely using what tools I had at my disposal to communicate with him.”

“I wish you had talked to me _before_ you did that,” Harry muttered as he ran a hand through his hair in a mirror-move to Severus. “He's so...so...fragile, and I hate it. Before Ron, he was so strong despite all the shit that he went through. You probably made it ten times worse by invading his mind like that.”

“I hope you do realize that it wasn't deliberate,” Severus snapped angrily, although still in a low tone in order to keep from waking Draco. “Call it desperation, or a plea, or whatever you like. I used to _have_ something with Draco, and now he is a walking corpse that only responds to _you._ I miss my other lover. Excuse me for wishing to do something drastic that may have drawn him out.”

“I don't think trying to scare him out of his silence was the right thing to do,” Harry said uncertainly, while he struggled to ignore Severus's disapproving frown. “He needs understanding and support, not for us to rip away his safety net or invade his privacy.”

“Need I remind you that Draco is _not_ a child?” Severus demanded as he arched a brow at Harry. “He is an adult—a traumatized and deeply damaged adult, but nevertheless he is still a grown man. You should not be coddling him like this.”

“I'm trying to take _care_ of him, not coddle him,” Harry countered, “I want him to know that he isn't being judged or viewed as a burden. I—I care for him.”

Harry felt his face flood with warmth as he realized that that was the first time he'd voiced such a thing.

He _cared_ for Draco Malfoy.

But what did that even mean?

Did he _love_ Draco? Could he love him after all that had happened, or was it a platonic love, like what he felt for his friends?

“I know that you do, Harry,” Severus said, drawing Harry from his thoughts before they got much deeper. From anyone else, such a statement may have sounded soft and compassionate, but from Severus it was curt and impatient, which only caused Harry's frown to deepen. “All the more reason to stop this coddling behaviour before it gets out of hand. I think you may have forgotten that you have assumed the role as caretaker for a grown man, and _not_ a small child.”

Harry crossed his arms and didn't answer, while Severus rolled his eyes at his attitude.

 

The afternoon wore on, and when Harry heard Draco begin to stir, he lifted the stasis charm he'd placed on a cup of tea and carried it to Draco's bedroom. He arrived just in time to see Draco's eyes flit open, but he didn't sit up, and instead stared blankly at the wall opposite, as though he was unwilling to look in Harry's direction.

“Hey,” Harry said from the doorway, but Draco didn't move. “I, er, brought you some tea...and a present.”

The word _present_ seemed to at least pique Draco's interest, and he glanced towards Harry inquiringly. Harry shuffled forward and offered Draco the mug, and he finally sat up to accept it. When he sipped on it, Harry watched as Draco's entire form seemed to sag with relaxation, and he couldn't help but smile a little at that.

“Er...Severus told me what he did,” Harry began, and he saw Draco tense again. “He said that he could not hear your thoughts and had no intention of sifting through your memories, he was just trying to talk to you. He misses you, Draco. I know that was a shitty way of trying to get through to you, but that was the explanation that he gave me, so...do with it what you will.”

Draco, predictably, did not respond, but if Harry wasn't mistaken, he was almost certain that he saw a flicker of regret in the young man's eyes.

 

Harry sat with him while he drank his tea, he not speaking very much while he watched his former school rival. Even as he sat there, he felt a surge of anger at Severus for implying that he was _coddling_ Draco. After what he'd endured, as far as Harry was concerned, the young man _deserved_ a little coddling.

“Er, I also said I have a present for you, remember?” Harry said as Draco set his empty mug aside, and at his words the young man seemed to perk up with curiosity. Harry smiled, and dug his hand into his pocket. “Hold out your hands, yeah?”

Draco obeyed, his hands cupped together like he was trying to catch falling rain, and Harry dropped the beaded bracelet into his hands.

The young man blinked, and stared at the bracelet like Harry had gifted him with an octopus or something as equally strange.

“It's supposed to help calm your mind,” Harry explained as Draco prodded it curiously, then picked it up gingerly to examine it, his lips parted and eyes wide. “I know things have been hard for you, and Sev—er, _I_ thought that this might help make you feel better.” Harry paused to watch Draco continue to examine the bracelet as he asked, “er, would you like me to help you put it on?”

Draco's gaze shot up, his eyes wide, once more adopting an expression very much like a deer caught in headlights. Harry bit his lip, uncertain what he could have said to spark such a reaction, but pushed forward anyway, hoping that he wasn't on the wrong track in his jumbled explanations.

“It's not cursed, I promise,” Harry said as he reached out to touch Draco comfortingly, but he flinched back, out of reach. Harry frowned, and retracted his hand as he continued to speak. “It won't make you do anything you don't want to do—like talk. I swear, Draco, it's _just_ to help make you feel better, maybe less depressed. That's _all_.”

Draco's eyes flicked from the bracelet in his hands to Harry's imploring face, and back down again. Harry saw the blond's Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously, his expression deeply conflicted. Harry reached for him again, but this time he did not jump away. Harry made sure that Draco could see him coming, enabling him to stop Harry if he changed his mind, and Harry wrapped his arms around him in a gentle, reassuring embrace.

“I haven't lied to you about anything since all this started to happen,” Harry murmured softly into his ear, “and I'm not about to start now.”

Harry pulled back, just enough so that he could see Draco's reaction to his words. His eyes were downcast, fixed upon the gift still cradled in his hands. The look in his eyes had shifted to something more pensive, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

It took him a moment, but at last, Draco nodded.

 

~*~

 

Draco watched as Harry smiled warmly at him and gently plucked the bracelet from his hand.

“Hold out your hand, Draco,” Harry said gently, and Draco obeyed, extending his arm to Harry, and watched as the brunet unbuttoned his pyjama sleeve and rolled it back.

Draco's flesh tingled where Harry touched him, and he flexed his hand a little as Harry abandoned the limb to pick back up the bracelet. Draco watched with his head cocked to the side as Harry wrapped the string of beads around his narrow wrist, and fastened it carefully.

“Not too tight?” Harry asked, and Draco shook his head a little. Harry beamed at him, though Draco was not entirely certain what he'd done to spark such a warm reaction.

 _I have to know what I did,_ Draco thought fiercely, _if I keep Harry happy, he won't leave me alone. He'll stay._

“You're still in there,” Harry said breathlessly, and closed both hands over one of Draco's. “I _knew_ it. Draco, please, don't hide away from us. I know your silence makes you feel safe, but...” Harry paused and bit his bottom lip. “We can keep you safe, too.”

Draco felt his stomach turn over uneasily as he looked away from Harry.

 _Speak?_ Draco wondered, _when he just promised that he wouldn't make me?_

Draco tugged his hand from Harry's hold, and he let him go without a fight. He drew his knees to his chest and hid behind them. He saw Harry sag with disappointment, and his mind warred with conflicting emotions—speak, and make Harry happy, or stay silent and safe.

“I'm sorry,” Harry said before Draco could come to a decision, and Draco watched Harry's shoulders sag defeatedly out of the corner of his eye. “I don't mean to push, I just...” he let out a soft sigh, and reached up to rake a hand through his hair. “I just miss your fire, Draco. I want to hear you speak, and sneer, and make fun of me.”

Harry opened his mouth as though he intended to say more, but suddenly closed it, touched the back of Draco's hand lightly, and stood up.

As Draco watched him stride from the room, he had the strangest compulsion to call out to Harry and make him stay. He reached for him silently, his eyes pleading, but Harry did not turn back.


	18. Lost Without You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be April 5th. Enjoy :)
> 
> **Trigger Warning: This chapter contains implied/referenced spousal abuse.**

Chapter Eighteen – Lost Without You

 

Harry woke early that July morning with Draco curled in his arms like an infant. His head was buried in the crook of Harry's neck, and he could feel the blond's warm puffs of breath against his skin as he slept on.

He reached up compulsively to stroke Draco's hair while he continued to hold onto him gently, but firmly as Harry's thoughts turned to what lay ahead that day.

_Ron's trial._

More than facing the Weasleys again, the prospect of leaving Draco's side was a daunting one. In one fell swoop, Draco and Severus had become Harry's only friends—and more—and the prospect of losing either of them was terrifying.

_What if Draco thinks I've left him? What if Draco wakes up and finds me gone, and is too anxious to listen to Severus when he tells him I've gone to Ron's trial?_

Harry's arms tensed around Draco, and his companion gasped a little from the tight hold, but did not wake up. Harry quickly relaxed his grip, and perched his head on top of Draco's.

_I want to protect you, Draco, that's why I'm leaving, but it's only for a little while. I promise._

Harry greeted Severus at breakfast an hour later with a kiss, while Draco looked on with a blank expression upon his face. This was hardly anything new, and both had gotten used to Draco's dissociative episodes, but the doll-like state that he often fell into never ceased to unnerve Harry.

“Did you do it?” Harry whispered, and nodded to the spread of teacups on the kitchen counter.

“Yes,” Severus replied just as softly, “he'll feel the effects within the next half hour, and with some luck, he will never know that you've gone.”

Harry smiled and kissed the older man again, then carefully scooped up the tea platter and carried it out to where Draco was waiting.

“Would you like some tea, Draco?” Harry asked, and waited a moment as Draco seemed to come out of his fugue state, and nodded a little. Harry smiled widely, and offered him the prepared cup. Draco accepted it while Harry sat down and laid his own teacup and Severus's at their respective places, just as Severus swept into the room with platters of eggs, bacon, and toast.

Harry took to the task of serving Draco his breakfast. Often, he still appeared too nervous to help himself, and sat there, still distinctly doll-like, as he stared at the platters of food. Harry had gotten used to it over the last few weeks as he patiently asked Draco, “would you like some eggs?” nod. “Would you like some bacon?” head shake. “Would you like some toast?” nod.

Harry ignored Severus's sour expression as he served up Draco's eggs and toast, and moved the bottle of ketchup to next to the blond's plate, and watched with an amused smile as Draco drew a very careful zigzag on top of the eggs before he burst the yolks with his fork.

The trio ate in relative silence, Harry and Severus both casting glances towards Draco every time he sipped his tea, but thankfully he did not seem to notice that anything was off about it.

At the end of the meal, as predicted, Draco began to yawn.

“Still a bit tired, eh?” Harry asked kindly as he wrapped an arm around Draco's shoulders, and his silent companion responded by rubbing at his eyes with his fists. “Let's get you back to bed, and you can rest a bit. I know that you tire out easily...”

Harry led Draco back to his room and tucked him in. He stared blearily up at Harry, and reached for him compulsively, like a little child for their parent. Harry wrapped both his hands around Draco's outstretched one, and offered him a small, warm smile.

“I know you're tired, Draco,” Harry said softly, “just rest, and I'll be ba—I'll be here when you wake up.”

Draco's hand in his slackened, and with a soft sigh his eyes slid shut as he fell asleep.

“Is he sleeping?”

The low timbre of Severus's voice sounded from the door, and Harry turned to see him watching the pair of them with what appeared to be a blank, expressionless look.

However, after getting to know Severus a little better over the last few months, Harry could see more in his eyes than simple indifference.

Severus's eyes were dark, but no longer reminded Harry of tunnels, but something warmer, albeit cloaked and hidden from the world. It was a kindness he'd let precious few people see, and Harry felt deeply blessed that Severus now trusted him enough to let him see it—he cared, deeply, for Draco and himself.

More than Harry had ever thought him capable of.

Harry nodded as he offered Severus a warm smile, and stood to close the distance between them. He closed both his hands over one of Severus's, and noted the slightly tacky texture of his palm—despite all outward appearances, Severus was nervous.

Harry arched up to kiss him, and shivered with delight when he felt the older man's free hand move to cradle his cheek, holding onto him like he was precious.

“I know it's hard, Severus,” Harry murmured softly, “with him so...cold towards you. You really hurt him with your little _outing_ act, but he's still in there, and I _know_ that he still lo—he still cares for you. Just try and be patient with him, one day, maybe soon, he'll remember that.”

“You spent your adolescence defying me, we can't carry on a conversation without some level of sarcasm, and yet you speak my mind more eloquently than if you had used Legilimency,” Severus murmured softly, his thumb brushing over Harry's cheekbone as he spoke, “how do you do that?”

Harry answered with a warm smile, and moved in to kiss him again.

“Magic.”

 

Later that morning, Harry found himself in a far less welcoming place, and immediately began to fantasize longingly of the little cottage, secreted away in the woods with Severus and Draco.

“Wizengamot Trial Number Four-Oh-One-Three,” the Junior Minister announced in a monotonous voice, “People of Wizarding Britain versus Ronald Bilius Weasley, Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, and Zacharias Smith.”

Two blank-faced Aurors led the four men in, all clapped in irons with their heads bowed, and Harry heard a small sob rent the air. He looked up, and across the courtroom he spotted a sea of red hair.

On his side, he was alone, but on Ron and the others' side, it was packed with people.

Suddenly, getting Draco a fair trial seemed _impossible_.

Harry's robes bunched up against his knees as he clenched his fists, and watched as the minister, Kingsley Shacklebolt, stood up.

“Be seated,” he said, and the four accused were led to the trial chairs. When they were bound in place, Harry heard Molly Weasley let out another loud sob, which he struggled to ignore.

“We are gathered here today, July fourteenth, to determine the guilt of these four men,” Kingsley pronounced. “You four are accused by Mr Harry James Potter, War Hero, and recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, and Professor Severus Snape, War Hero, and recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, of the following—physical assault, verbal assault, sexual assault, assault of a wandless wizard either by design or punishment, sexual abuse, verbal abuse, rape, coercion, contact of an exiled wizard without just cause, and resisting arrest. How do you plea?”

A chorus of _Not Guilty_ s rang through the expansive room, and Harry rolled his eyes, but resisted the urge to verbally protest it. There would be time enough for that later. He watched the confident way in which the quartet spoke, and he narrowed his eyes.

_I don't care what it takes,_ Harry thought fiercely, _I will make_ sure _the four of you go away for hurting Draco and stealing him from me and Severus._  

“First to the stand, Mrs Molly Weasley...” announced the Junior Minister in the same tone, while at the same time George glared at Harry from across the courtroom. Harry ignored it.

Harry was then subject to nearly four hours of sorrowful laments from the Weasleys—Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, and Ginny, in addition to the mother of Seamus, and parents of Dean and Zacharias (though why Dean's parents had been allowed in the Ministry when they were muggles was a mystery to Harry) about what good, and upstanding citizens they all were.

It made Harry want to puke.

“Next to testify...Hermione Jean Granger.”

Harry sat up straight at the mention of his friend, and watched as Hermione entered through the courtroom doors from outside, which Harry thought was peculiar, given that all the other witnesses were seated within the courtroom. She sat down upon the available seat for witnesses, and Harry watched as Ron tried to catch her eye, but she refused to look at him.

“You are Hermione Jean Granger?” Kingsley asked without even a note of familiarity in his tone.

“I am.”

“Resident of Number Seven, Hogsmeade High Street, with live-in boyfriend, Ronald Bilius Weasley?”

“Yes.”

“And you are a Trainee Healer at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries?”

“Yes.”

“And concerning your significant other, Ronald Bilius Weasley, what is your belief on his participation in these charges that he has been accused of?”

Hermione was silent, and Harry held his breath. She looked up, her eyes watery, and locked gazes with Harry briefly before she turned back to Kingsley.

“I believe Harry and Snape's accusations,” she said, and the entire courtroom seemed to gasp.

“You _bitch_!” Ron screamed from his seat, and struggled against his bindings, “how can you believe _them_ over me? Which one are you supposedly in love with?!”

“Oh, _Hermione_!” cried Molly at the same time, “how _could_ you?”

“ _Silence!_ ”

Kingsley's voice boomed through the courtroom, making nearly everybody jump. Hermione's face was wet with tears, and she seemed to be trying very hard to not look at Ron or the Weasleys, but did cast a significant glance towards Harry. She sniffed once, and the minister sent a box of tissues to her using his wand, which she accepted, and mopped her cheeks.

“Now, Miss Granger,” Kingsley said kindly, but with the same lack of familiarity in his voice, “what reasoning do you have for siding with Potter and Snape, and not your own significant other?”

Instead of answering, Hermione let out a small sob. Ron's glare at her became more pronounced, and as Harry watched his two best friends, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as he put two and two together.

_Ron is hurting her._

Harry felt positively sick.

“I...” Hermione began, “I...he...”

“Take your time, Miss Granger,” Kingsley said in the same kind and patient tone, and she nodded a little as she took another tissue and blew her nose.

“It—it started when we first moved in together,” Hermione said, her voice shaking so badly that at first it was difficult to understand her words. “W-Whenever Ron would have too much to drink his temper would...I—I never thought anything of it, Ron always insisted that he was sorry and he'd never do it again, and he was _never_ like that around his family or Harry, b-but then when he'd get drunk again he'd blame _me_ for silly little things, and just rant and rave and—and...”

“—Hermione,” Kingsley interjected, his voice softening slightly as he looked at her, “did he ever hit you?”

“N-No,” Hermione replied, “that's why I never talked about it, I thought he really didn't mean it, and I always thought, w-well, _it's not like he's hitting me._ W-When the attack on Malfoy happened, Ron was taken in, and I just...I _wasn't_ surprised. Ron kept insisting that he didn't do it, but something about his explanations never added up...I was _certain_ he had something to do with it.”

“And what sort of explanations did he give you?”

“F-First he said that he was on a pub crawl with Harry, but then I got a letter from Harry asking about how to help someone who was traumatized and not speaking, at the same time that Ron was arrested, and he claimed it was a big coincidence, and he said he was just out for a drink with _the lads_ , and it was this big misunderstanding, but he's never called his friends _the lads_ before, and I thought it was just so odd, but...but...” Hermione let out another small sob, and dabbed at her eyes with a fresh tissue, while the Weasleys, Harry noted, could not quite look at her as she sat there and wept.

“Thank you, Miss Granger,” Kingsley said, and Hermione slipped off the chair and immediately made a beeline for Harry. Harry pulled her into a tight hug, just as she began to cry into his shoulder.

“Hermione,” Harry murmured, “I'm so sorry that he did that to you. I'll make _sure_ that he goes away for what he's done to you and to my—to Draco. I _promise_.”

“I'm so sorry, Harry,” she said brokenly as she clutched to him more tightly.

“Why are you sorry?”

“I sh-should've known that R-Ron was planning something, and I—I should've answered all your owls, b-but...”

“Hey, don't be stupid,” Harry said gently, and squeezed her again, “neither of us could've known that Ron would go so badly off the rails. Don't blame yourself, all right? It's not your fault that he hurt you, and it's _definitely_ not your fault that he hurt Draco. You were going through a lot, more than I knew. If I _had_ known, I never would have pelleted you with so many owls.”

Hermione nodded, smiling weakly as she mumbled something that could have been another apology, but Harry wasn't given the opportunity to answer as he heard Kingsley adopt his sombre tone again as he called his name.

“Harry James Potter to the stand.”

A chilling silence seemed to fill the courtroom, and Harry felt several dozen glares shift to where he was standing with Hermione. He swallowed nervously, and stepped down, leaving her on his side away from the Weasleys, and moved to the available chair.

“ _Traitor_ ,” a voice hissed, but it was too soft to tell who had said it. Harry gritted his teeth as his anger flared within him, but he forced himself to keep his gaze forward, and not look back at the four accused men.

“You are Harry James Potter?” Kingsley asked in the same way that he had addressed Hermione.

“Yes.”

“Of Number Twenty-Six, Hampton Road?”

“Yes, but I have been spending most of my time lately at the home of Professor Severus Snape,” Harry replied, and ignored the ridiculous, dramatic gasp from Molly Weasley.

“Is there any particular reason why you are spending to much time with him?”

“I am trying to reverse the damage that Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Zacharias has done to Draco, and Severus and I are... _involved_.”

The latter statement had the desired effect, and though Harry had assumed that Ron would have relayed this information to his family, it seemed as though he hadn't, given the ridiculous uproar from them. It would have been almost funny, if not for the serious nature of the trial.

“ _Silence!_ ” Kingsley cried again as he banged his gavel repeatedly upon his stand, and slowly the group quieted, though if Harry wasn't mistaken, their glares in his direction seemed to have become more pronounced.

“Now, tell me, Mr Potter, what sort of damage to Mr Malfoy are you speaking of?” Kingsley asked, and Harry almost laughed at the minister's wording.

“ _Speaking_ being the operative word, Minister.”

“What do you mean?”

“Draco has not spoken since the incident occurred—not a peep. The trauma these four monsters caused him was so great that he retreated into his own mind, and will not converse with anyone, not even myself or Severus. He is like a child now, terrified of doing pretty much anything at all, and despite our efforts since the incident, only in the last few days have we begun to make any progress at all.”

“He is speaking now?” Kingsley asked, and Harry shook his head.

“He nods at me to signify the word _yes_ , and shakes his head for _no,_ ” Harry said, “at nearly three months since Ron and the others attacked him, and that is as close to speaking as he has gotten.”

“That sounds quite serious.”

“It is,” Harry replied. “Draco is completely traumatized, and it is _their_ fault. There is no room for excuses or ambiguity. Out of sheer spite, they targeted Draco at his weakest moment, and destroyed him.”

Kingsley opened his mouth to reply, but at the same moment Harry watched as a ministry worker let himself into the courtroom, his face flushed as though he had been running, and he stepped up the raised seats, only stopping when he reached Kingsley, and murmured into the minister's ear. Kingsley nodded, and the man hurried back down and moved over to Harry, handing over a folded piece of parchment. Confused and curious, Harry flicked it open and immediately recognized Severus's handwriting. As he read the short letter, he felt his stomach turn over with immediate dread.

 

_Come home now_ .

 

~*~

 

The moment that Draco opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong.

The sun was low on the horizon, signifying that it was approaching late afternoon, and though he'd taken long naps before, something felt _off_ about this one. He felt groggy, and his limbs were much heavier than they ought to be, like part of him wasn't ready to wake up just yet.

Draco let out a soft groan and tugged his blanket up higher, encasing his shoulders in the soft cotton, and as he did so, his eyes caught sight of a soft glint near his wrist.

He shifted under the covers, just enough to look at the bracelet, and he smiled softly to himself.

_Harry gave me a gift._

It was such a simple concept, but it was one that filled Draco with an unrivalled joy he had not experienced in a long time. He recognized this flutter in his chest, the longing and happiness, but he was afraid to name it. What if it all fell apart again?

_Beautiful boy..._

The voice came unbidden to Draco mind, and he shivered with confusion and misery. Visions of his time with Severus jumped into the forefront of Draco's mind, both as Schroeder and later as himself, and Draco shivered again. He _missed_ Severus, but at the same time, the idea of reaching out to him was nothing short of terrifying.

_I want Harry..._

Draco pulled himself from bed with a soft groan, and tugged his dressing gown on over his pyjamas.

Rubbing his eyes, Draco shuffled down the hall and into the main area of the cottage, but still he could not completely shake his drowsiness off. Uncertain what to make of it, he hoped that maybe a little food or tea might aid in clearing his head.

Draco's foggy drowsiness shifted to something closer to panic however when he stepped out into the main area of the cottage, and did not see Harry.

Severus lifted his gaze from the book in his hands the moment that Draco stepped out, and he pursed his lips. Draco felt his panic begin to mount when he saw the sour look upon the man's face; without even saying a word, Draco knew—

Harry was gone.

Draco moved to shuffle back into the hall and hide his panic from the older man, but in the same space of a breath, he was standing before Draco, his expression calm and impassive.

“Draco,” Severus said, his voice softer and more vulnerable than Draco could ever recall hearing it before, “I beg you, please, my Beautiful Boy, stop running from me. Harry is not the only one who cares for you—he is not the only one who wishes to hear your lovely voice again. You are strong, and you are beautiful, and you _must not let them win_. Come to me, Beautiful Boy, I swear in the name of every god and goddess above and below that I will not hurt you; I will protect you. Do you remember when we rescued you from— _them_? It was not Harry you went to first, but me. Why do you run now? Let me take care of you, as I once did.”

Severus extended a hand to him, and Draco flinched. His eyes darted left and right, desperately looking for someone who wasn't there, and he saw Severus's shoulders sag with disappointment.

“Come sit, then,” Severus said in the same soft, plaintive voice. “I will call for Harry, and you may look over the letter before I send it. He has not left us, Draco, he is merely attending the hearing for your assailants to ensure that they end up in Azkaban where they belong.”

Severus motioned to the sofa as he spoke, and despite his wording, he did not move to usher or urge Draco over to the piece of furniture, but only waited for him to respond.

Draco wrapped his arms around himself as he began to rock on his heels. He did not miss the look of concern that crossed Severus's face, but he made no attempt to approach the younger man as he stood there, but instead merely watched him silently, as though he had all the time in the world to wait for Draco to respond.

“I won't harm you, Draco,” Severus reminded him gently, “I care for you as much as I do Harry, if not more—” the corner of his mouth quirked into the shadow of a smile, “—but perhaps let's keep that between us, shall we?” He paused again, and curled his fingers in a _come hither_ motion. “I will always watch over you, Draco. Even when you want nothing to do with me.”

Draco felt his eyes begin to sting as he took the tiniest step forward. Severus smiled and inclined his head slightly. Unlike Harry, who could be a bit thick at times, Severus seemed to understand the massive implication of trust behind the action.

“You can do it, Draco,” Severus encouraged as he stepped back, slowly leading Draco towards the sofa, “I shall call Harry for you, I promise.”

Spurred on by his words, Draco smiled and nodded his head a little, and followed Severus to the sofa. He eased down onto it and crossed his legs Indian-style upon the soft leather, and nodded again when Severus offered him a woven blanket, which he wrapped around himself tightly. The older man, as though reading Draco's mind, made him a tea, just how he liked it, before he summoned some parchment, a quill, and some ink to compose a short letter. It took him less than three seconds to write it, and when he held it up for Draco to see, the younger man could not help but smile faintly.

“What do you think,” Severus asked, “will Harry understand the urgency?”

 

_Come home now._

Draco bit his lip as he read the three words, and immediately nodded.

Severus inclined his head slightly, and stood in one fluid motion before he moved towards the window, and called his owl to him with a small chirrup of his lips. Draco watched him tie the short letter to the leg of the owl quickly, and sent the creature on its way. Draco watched the owl spread its wings and take off as Severus opened the window, and did not move until the owl had cleared it and he re-latched the pane. All the while, Draco's mind was awash with nervous, panicked thoughts.

 

_Will Harry come back?_

_Does Harry want to come back?_

_Am I forcing Harry to come back?_

Draco bit his lip hard, but still a fearful whimper managed to slip past his lips. Severus was at his side in an instant, but Draco jumped up before the older man could touch him.

“Draco, please,” Severus said, his tone not exactly pleading, but instead sounded close to frustrated.

Draco ignored him as he began to pace, his face in his hands as he did his best to calm down and not cry.

“Draco,” Severus said again in that same voice, and at the same moment a shadow washed over him. Draco glanced up, and let out an unintentional squeak of surprise when he saw Severus standing not one foot from him.

Immediately, Draco tried to scramble backward and out of reach, but Severus was too quick for him, and grabbed him firmly, but gently, by the shoulders, stopping his flight. Draco's breath caught, and he froze in place as he stared up at Severus with wide eyes. _What was he planning to do?_

“Draco, please listen to me,” Severus said, his voice finally dropping the aloof tone, and adopting something softer and more plaintive. “I am not Harry, I cannot be him for you, but I _am_ someone who cares for you—someone who _loves_ you. You were my Beautiful Boy for weeks; I paid you to save you from unworthy men, and I tried to help you in the guise of a stranger. I know that he was someone you loved and trusted. You loved and trusted me, too, before you ever cared enough for our Harry to even give him the time of day. I know I betrayed your trust by telling your mother of your drug problem, but it was with the best intentions. I want to see you again, as deeply as Harry does. Please, do not shut me out. I can _help_ you.”

Draco shouldered out of Severus's grip, and the older man immediately let him go. Draco breathed hard through his nose as though he'd been running, and lifted his hands to his hair, gripping tightly to the blond strands as he began to pace again, but kept Severus in his field of vision. He wanted to trust Severus, he wanted his old life back, but part of his mind could not— _would not—_ let anyone else in. He needed _Harry_. Harry would make things all right again. He hadn't left him, Draco reasoned in a panic, he'd just stepped out for a moment.

At almost the same instant that he began to doubt that Harry would truly return, Draco heard the distinct _crack_ of someone Apparating nearby, and a moment later the door burst open.

Harry did not even pause to take his shoes off, and instead made a beeline straight for Draco, and gathered the blond into his arms.

“It's all right, Draco,” Harry murmured as he kissed his cheek and rubbed his back while Draco clung to him tightly. “I'm here.”


	19. Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be April 12th. Enjoy :)

Chapter Nineteen – Communication

 

After Harry had managed to calm Draco down, he noticed that Severus was angry about something, but Harry had no idea what he was so pissed about _this_ time.

At first, Harry didn't say anything—he didn't have much opportunity to, with Draco clinging to him so desperately, clearly terrified that Harry might leave again. In his panicked state, Draco did not seem to be hearing Harry's explanations as to why he left, and his promises that he wouldn't leave again, and instead Harry just held him, rubbing his back continually like he was a child, and he tried to offer Severus an apologetic glance over Draco's shoulder, but the older man refused to meet his eye.

The day wound slowly down, and Draco eventually fell asleep against Harry's side, but every time he tried to move him, Draco would begin to wake, and Harry eventually gave up on moving him to his own bed.

Harry eased back against the sofa, stroking Draco's hair and holding him, when a familiar tawny owl flew in through the open window and dropped a letter on his knees, before it settled itself down on the coffee table and stared at Harry intently.

_I wonder what Hermione wants_ , Harry mused as he slit open the envelope and unfolded the letter, only to smile when he began to read its contents.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope Draco's doing OK, from what you said, it sounded pretty serious._

_Ron and the others all got consecutive life sentences—Ron and Seamus are eligible for parole in twenty years, and the other two in ten, since Ron and Seamus were considered the ringleaders, they got more. Molly and the other Weasleys are furious, as you would imagine, and had a few colourful words for me on my way out—so colourful in fact that I was escorted out by an Auror, and Molly was slapped with a restraining order._

_I'm OK, though—I mean, I'm not OK-OK, but I'm getting there._

_Take care of Draco, I know he needs you._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

Smiling to himself, Harry moved to kiss Draco's temple once before he summoned some parchment and a self-inking quill, and began to draft a response.

 

_Hermione,_

_Thanks for everything, Draco's okay—he's badly shaken, but he's asleep right now._

_I'm a bit stuck at the moment, I can't really leave Draco, and I don't really know what bringing you over would do. I'll have to ask Severus, he knows way more about this stuff than I do._

_I want to help you, if I can—if you want me to. You went through way more than you deserve, and I hate that I didn't figure it out sooner. You're my best friend, so you can tell me anything. You know that, right?_

_I'm really glad Ron and the others are going away. I can't even figure out how Ron could go from saving our lives and being there for us through thick and thin to something like this...it's mad. I don't care about him—he deserves what he got, but I want you to be safe, especially if the Weasleys are gunning for you. If you feel unsafe at any time, just go to my flat and stay there, or if Severus thinks you can come here without freaking out Draco too badly, we can do that too—whatever you need._

_Stay safe,_

_Harry_

Harry sent off the letter with Hermione's owl, then turned his attention back to Draco, who was still dozing against his shoulder. In the gleam of sunset his hair was alight with flecks of white and gold, and he looked perfect—like a Greek God, or some sort of pristine marble statue.

Harry ran his fingers through Draco's hair, and the blond let out a tiny sigh of contentment.

_How is it that someone I used to hate I now see as so perfect?_ Harry mused as he smiled idly. Draco was so lovely, and Harry could not help but marvel at the way his heart seemed to flutter every time he looked at him—the same feeling he got whenever he was with Severus.

Harry kissed Draco's temple again, and his companion smiled in his sleep.

Roughly an hour after sunset, Draco finally seemed to have descended into a deep sleep, likely exhausted by his panic from earlier, and Harry was finally able to transport him to his bed. When he returned to the sitting room, Severus was perched on the edge of the sofa, but he still appeared to be in a foul mood. After everything that had happened that day however, Harry had had enough.

“ _What_?” Harry demanded, and Severus's scowl seemed to deepen.

“Nothing,” the older man muttered sourly, and refocused his gaze on his cup of tea.

“Bollocks,” Harry snapped, and Severus's angry glare returned to him. “You've been a right misery ever since I got home, so stop being a fucking princess and _tell me_ what's wrong.”

Severus's angry glare became more pronounced at Harry's gall to refer to him as a _princess,_ but instead of answering, he set down his teacup, turned bodily away from Harry, and crossed his arms. Harry rolled his eyes.

“Can you _please_ stop acting like you're five and tell me what I did to piss you off?” Harry demanded, his brow furrowing with anger as he gazed at the older man, but still he did not respond.

“Go see to our house guest,” Severus bit out stubbornly, “clearly he still only cares for _you_.”

Ah.

“Severus, you can't blame _me_ for how Draco acts,” Harry snapped furiously, “you totally betrayed his trust by telling his mum about his issues with addiction—not me, _you_. I was his only supporter when he first stopped talking. It will take him time to trust you again, but whether he loves you or hates you, that is _not my fault_.”

“On the contrary, I think it is,” Severus countered, his arms still crossed. “You have been coddling Draco every moment since we rescued him from Weasley and his cohorts. My insistence that we get him talking has been overshadowed by your need to _protect_ him, and by extension, you have indulged his silence, not the reverse.”

“He needs someone on his side,” Harry countered with a huff of frustration—he was _so tired_ of having this discussion. “He needs someone that he _trusts_. I don't want to push him too hard; if he feels like I'm abandoning him, it might make things worse.”

“I was not implying that you do something so foolish such as yank the proverbial broom out from under him,” Severus pointed out tartly, “but you _do_ need to start encouraging him to converse, otherwise that, too, will cause him to back farther into the safety of his mind.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry asked, his voice still edging with anger, while Severus's glare did not let up. “Like what then?”

Severus lifted his wand and flicked it. A little cardboard box, slightly larger than an ordinary deck of cards, lifted off one of the bookshelves where Severus had left all the conversation tools he'd picked up for Draco, and it zoomed towards them. Severus caught it deftly before he tossed it to Harry, who caught it on instinct. When he looked down, he saw himself holding a pack of muggle flashcards.

“Tomorrow, you will begin trying to get Draco to communicate using those,” Severus said, his commanding tone leaving no room for argument. “You will pull two out, and ask him to point to the correct one, such as, 'Draco, point to the Apple,' and so on. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded, his mouth twisted into a grimace as he looked down at the box. He wanted Draco to talk again, he did, but at the same time, his stomach churned with uncertainty—what if Draco felt too pressured by the activity? What if it made him retreat into himself even more? What if this made everything _worse_?

A warm, soft hand covered Harry's, drawing him from his tangled web of worried thoughts. Harry felt a tingle of affection rush through him as he looked up at Severus, who had inched closer to him, his expression softened, and he was gazing at Harry with a tender look in his eyes, one which Harry was still growing used to seeing directed at him. Severus was still in many ways a hard man to know, but in the months since they'd gotten together, he'd begun to open himself up to Harry in little ways, but still cautiously, as though he expected to be ridiculed for doing so.

The reminder of just _who_ likely had a hand in creating that particular personality trait made Harry feel slightly sick, and he pushed the sudden memories of his father and godfather away. They were dead, they did not need him any longer.

But Severus did. 

“I still want to try that three...person... _thing_ ,” Harry said softly, and he felt his face flush as he said it, realizing too late how that sounded. “Not just for the sex, but...it sounds mental, but the three of us, we _work_ together. Right now we're spending all this time helping Draco get better, and I keep dreaming about him being better, and how I'd finally be able to get to know him properly.

“Like the other day,” he continued, “I could practically _see_ Draco mocking me when I accidentally put the treacle in my coffee instead of my porridge, and I want to hear that, not just see it in his eyes. And I want to feel him between us as we all fall asleep, and I want to see your face when your two young lovers try to talk you into playing Quidditch with them, and...I want him to talk, but I'm afraid of hurting him. And...Severus, even if he never talks again, my other priority, other than him...is you.”

“ _Me_?” Severus asked, blinking at Harry with confusion. “Why on earth am I a _priority_ of yours?”

“You've got so much pride, Severus,” Harry said teasingly as he leant in to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. “And you're so determined that no one sees when you're hurting...you put on this mask of strength that makes the world think that nothing ruffles you, but I can _see_ how much it bugs you that Draco trusts me and not you. I saw all your memories, remember? I've seen you at your _worst._ You can't fool me. I know it probably feels awful, having to watch Draco trust me and not you, but he'll get there, in time. Until then, all I can offer is myself, and remember that _I_ care about you, Severus Snape. I care about every part of you. The good parts, the bad parts, and everything in between.”

Severus smirked, the expression less cold than it used to be, and closer to that of a warm smile. He reached forward and brushed a few strands of hair from Harry's eyes, and leant in to kiss him gently.

“ _How_ I could fall for an infuriating Gryffindor brat who has no idea how to give up on anything or any _one_ is a complete mystery to me _,_ ” Severus muttered, but despite his sarcastic tone, there was a small smile on his face. Harry grinned, and leant in for a kiss.

Every time Harry kissed Severus, he was amazed at how it felt more wonderful than he could have ever expected to be. Even after having kissed him so many times, it still left Harry in a state of adolescent-like ardour that made him want to laugh and cry at the same time. As they kissed, Severus's large hands slid down Harry's sides, and he shivered a little as the limbs none-too-subtly slipped beneath his shirt and skated over his skin, making Harry tremble with need.

“Severus,” Harry moaned softly, panting a little as they both leant in again for another heart-stopping kiss, when a soft tinkling, like wind chimes, sounded around them—the charm signalling that Draco was in distress, and it made both Harry and Severus groan. Part of Harry wanted to thump Draco for having such shitty timing, but most of him was keen to go and check on him, to make sure that Draco knew that he hadn't been abandoned.

“Sorry,” Harry whispered, kissing Severus once more before he turned, and nearly jumped out of his skin.

Draco was standing just past the hallway that led to the bedrooms, his eyes wide, and the dark circles under his eyes were so pronounced that they reminded Harry of a pair of bruises. Draco was shaking slightly, and he was clutching the quilt from his bed around him like a cloak as he stared intently at Harry.

Harry banished the surprise at the catlike silence that Draco had employed for his approach, and he vaulted over the sofa to get to Draco quicker.

“Hey, Draco, what's wrong?” Harry asked the moment he reached him, and he reached out to gently touch the blond's shoulders. “Did you have a nightmare?”

Childlike, Draco shuffled forward and rested his head against Harry's shoulder while he nodded incrementally. He knew that Draco doing so in front of Severus, though being such a small action, was monumental, and Harry wrapped his arms protectively around his agemate when he felt Draco shiver again.

“Come on,” Harry said softly, “let's get you back to bed. I'll lie with you for a bit, yeah?”

Draco nodded again, once more with barely the slightest inclination of his head, and with Harry's arms still looped around him, he led the blond back down the hall, turning back long enough to mouth _sorry_ to Severus, who nodded in understanding, but whether he was bothered by the interruption or not was concealed behind a neutral mask.

 

~*~

 

Draco leant against Harry's side, comforted by his presence as the brunet led him back to the bedroom. The nightmare was still fresh in his mind, and the memory of it made him shudder. Harry did not miss this reaction, and rubbed his back gently while he murmured sweet, comforting words to him as he helped Draco back into bed, and snuggled in with him, still fully clothed.

Harry lay next to him, stroking his hair lightly, and occasionally pressed a light kiss to Draco's cheek or temple. It was comforting, and effectively chased away the demons of his subconscious.

“So...” Harry murmured softly, and kissed his temple again, “another nightmare, eh?”

Draco nodded.

“Want to talk about it?”

Draco glared.

“Okay, that's okay,” Harry said, and kissed his cheek. “I'm sorry for asking.”

Draco relaxed again, his cheek pressed soundly against Harry's chest, and he listened to the slow, steady rhythm of his heart. He lifted a hand and twined his fingers through the fabric of Harry's jumper, and let out a small sigh. Harry had, like so many times before, effectively chased away the memories of Weasley and the others, and he was momentarily overwhelmed with the desire to throw caution into the wind and kiss the man properly.

_But would Harry like it?_ Draco wondered as he shut his eyes and feigned sleep, Harry's free hand still carding through his hair gently. _Does Harry actually feel that way, or is he just doing his Hero-Complex thing?_

The fact that Draco did not have an answer to that particular question grated on him, and he pressed his cheek harder against Harry's chest as he tried to get back to sleep.

 

Draco did not recall drifting off, but when he woke again it was morning, and he was alone in the narrow bed.

As he lay there, he could smell breakfast fare—eggs, bacon, toast—but he could hear no low thrum of conversation. The cottage was silent.

Confused, curious, and a little apprehensive, Draco rolled from bed and got into his slippers and dressing gown, tying it in place as he hurried down the hall, panic beginning to join the other emotions in his mind. Where was Harry? Had he left again?

Draco hurried out to the kitchen and dining room combination, and relaxed immediately when he found Harry sitting at the table waiting for him, but Severus was nowhere to be seen.

“Severus had some stuff to do in the village,” Harry explained with a small smile. “Want to eat with me?”

Draco smiled weakly as he nodded, and sat down at the other place setting. When he did so, instead of serving up a platter for him like Harry usually did, his companion pulled out a deck of cards and began to sift through them. After a moment, he extracted four cards, and laid them out on the table in front of Draco. Each of them had an illustration of some sort of breakfast food on them, with the names of the item below it— _Tea, Toast, Bacon, Egg._

Draco shifted his gaze from the cards, to Harry, and back again, uncertain what the brunet wanted him to do.

“Humour me,” Harry said with a warm, encouraging smile. “Just point to what you want to eat. There's no right or wrong answer, no matter what you pick, I won't be cross—I swear.”

Draco eyed Harry dubiously for a moment longer, uncertain if this was some sort of game or not, before he pointed to the _Tea_ and _Toast_ cards, and Harry's face split into a bright, sunny smile.

“Got it,” Harry said, and went about pouring his tea and plating his toast, and placed the pot of jam next to him in case he wanted it. Draco did, and spread a thin layer of blackberry jam on the toast while Harry took back the four cards and placed them into the deck again.

“Would you like to do something today?” Harry asked after a few moments of silence. Draco looked back up, and he saw that Harry had the deck in his hands again. “We could...go for a walk through the woods,” he said as he placed down a card that read, _Woods,_ “or we could go down to the village and go shopping,” he placed down a card that read _Town_ , “or...we could stay at home, maybe read or play chess or something.” He placed down a final card that read _Home._

Encouraged by Harry's warm smile, Draco looked down at the three cards thoughtfully. He could not recall any time over the past few years where he _could_ do whatever he wanted—if he wasn't working he was home, helping his mother tend to his father's needs.

Now however, he was being offered a small slice of his former life—he _could_ do what he liked, and his family would not suffer because of it.

Draco stared at the cards, and a full minute of silence passed, but Harry did not appear at all impatient with his delayed response. In fact, he was still smiling encouragingly, his fingers toying with the lip of his own teacup while he watched Draco look from one card to the next, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he tried to make up his mind.

At last, Draco's fingers fell to the _Home_ card, and Harry offered him another warm smile.

“Sounds good,” Harry said, and took back all the cards. He placed them back in the deck, and then offered the lot to Draco. “Why don't you hold onto them?” he asked, still with the same sunny smile as before. “That way, if you want something you don't need to wait for me to prompt you, you can just ask.”

The stack of cards that Harry held out felt less like a simple, innocuous request to Draco, and more like Harry was offering him the keys to the gates of Hell. Make decisions? _For himself?_

Alarmed at the gravity of the suggestion, Draco quickly shook his head. Harry could run his life better than he ever could; he trusted Harry, and most assuredly did _not_ trust himself.

To the negative response Harry's smile dimmed a little, and he nodded.

“Okay, that's fine,” he said, “we'll work up to it, yeah? No rush.”

Draco relaxed. Harry wasn't cross—that was good. However, the promise that he _would_ get Draco to communicate on his own was a daunting one—what had his voice given him, but trouble?

_It's safer to let Harry decide things for me,_ Draco thought in a panicked rush, _maybe it's a weakling's way out, but I don't care. I'm tired of hurting, and Harry keeps me safe. Things will be better this way._

After breakfast, Harry pulled out one of Severus's old chess sets, and with steaming cups of hot cocoa in front of them, they played three rounds. Thankfully, Harry had taken Draco's mutism into account, and used the muggle set, which required no direct orders. Harry managed to win all three games, but far from appearing pleased with his wins, he eyed Draco oddly.

“Draco...” Harry began, his lips pulled into a frown, and Draco tensed. “I'm pants at chess...are you letting me win?”

Draco bit his lip. He began to shake his head, and Harry arched a brow, and reluctantly he nodded.

Harry heaved a sigh, and reached for Draco's hand. He willingly intertwined his fingers with the brunet's, and followed his lead as Harry got up and tugged him towards the sofa. Harry sat down, and Draco mirrored him, cuddling into his side while he gazed up at Harry imploringly, uncertain what he did wrong.

“Draco,” Harry said, his voice gentle as he reached forward and took Draco's hands in his own once more. “It's _okay_ to play like you normally do, and beat me at chess. I won't be cross if you do, and I _definitely_ won't leave you. It's just a game; we're playing to have fun, not any other reason.”

Draco sniffed sharply, and looked away from Harry, but the brunet caught his chin, and gently turned his head to force Draco to look at him. He was smiling at Draco warmly, and did not look angry in the least. Draco hiccoughed, and he felt himself flush a deep scarlet with shame as a tear streaked his cheek.

“Oh, Draco, it's okay, it really is,” Harry said softly as he dragged him into a hug. Draco whimpered, clinging to Harry tightly. “You're okay—it's all going to be okay, I promise.”

_I think I might love you, Harry,_ Draco thought, and tried to show it by nuzzling at Harry's neck while he held onto him, but the brunet did not seem to notice as he continued to rub Draco's back while he consoled him. _With all my heart._


	20. Rejected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update scheduled for April 19th. Due to bad planning on my part, all my current WIPs (4 of 'em) have run out of pre-written chapters—usually I write all or most of the story in advance, and spend the week in between updates editing and going over bits with my beta, but this time I posted the stories before they were completed, which led to this disaster. What this means is that while I will do my best to put out next week's instalment on time, there may be a delay in posting it—I feel that it's better to wait and put out something good, rather than give you guys a rushed pile of crap. So, I will do my best to stay on schedule, and I hope you guys enjoy this week's update :)

Chapter Twenty – Rejected

 

Harry woke on the morning of his birthday to a kiss.

Severus had always been a strange mix of cold and warm, and this morning Harry felt nothing but his warmth. The older man blanketed Harry with his body and continued to kiss him, tapping at Harry's closed lips with his tongue, until Harry parted his lips and welcomed Severus into his mouth willingly.

“Happy Birthday,” Severus finally purred, and Harry laughed as he leant in to kiss him again.

“It seems that way,” Harry replied with a small, amused smile. “That's one hell of a way to wake up.”

“I wanted to see how long it would take you to respond, but I lost count after ten unfulfilling kisses,” Severus retorted teasingly, and Harry laughed again.

“I never really pegged you for the type to celebrate birthdays,” Harry said as he reached up to twine a strand of Severus's hair between his fingers, smiling idly as he did so. “You're so serious all the time...”

“So serious that I wouldn't celebrate my lover's birthday?” Severus asked with an arched brow, and Harry grinned sheepishly.

“Sorry,” he said, and Severus kissed him again.

“You are forgiven, for the moment,” Severus replied, “I shall punish you for it later.”

“No, I want my punishment now!” Harry whined, though he was grinning as he said it, and Severus chuckled.

“How do you know it will be a pleasurable punishment?” he asked with an arched brow, while his hand trailed down Harry's back, and stopped to cup his arse. “I may have you peel shrivelfigs or write lines.”

“On my _birthday_ , though?” Harry asked, “I didn't realize that you were still _that_ cruel.”

“Oh please, Harry,” Severus purred, “I never stopped being _cruel—_ it is practically my calling, after all.”

“Not potions, or saving your lover's life repeatedly, or teaching—just cruelty?” Harry teased, and Severus offered him a small smirk.

“Of course,” he replied, “especially when I'm so _good_ at it.”

Harry let out a small moan of longing, and with a wide smile on his face he closed the distance between them again, and devoured the older man's mouth in a hungry kiss. 

Not long after, Harry and Severus reluctantly left the comfort of the bed to begin breakfast. Draco was already at the table, his hands in his lap, and he offered Harry a small smile when he saw him.

Expressing his emotions in front of Severus was still a work in progress, but the small smile was big—for Draco, at least. Harry returned it, and after kissing Severus once more, he went over to Draco, sat down in the chair adjacent to him, and took one of the blond's hands.

“Morning,” Harry offered as he gave the limb a squeeze, and Draco returned it feebly. “How are you feeling today?”

At the same time, Harry pushed the deck of flashcards across the table towards Draco invitingly. He accepted them, but hesitantly, and Harry did not miss the way his hands shook as he did so.

Draco slipped his hand out of Harry's and shuffled through the deck, until he pulled out a card that read, _Nervous._

“Nervous?” Harry asked curiously, “why?”

Draco smiled and tapped his lips with his index finger, then pulled out another card that read, _Secret_.

Harry raised his eyebrows at his companion, but the sly, familiar smile gave Harry the impression that it wasn't some sort of grave, mental health reason, and he let it go with a laugh as Severus approached the table with a traditional English Breakfast. Harry nearly moaned aloud as Severus slid the plate in front of him, bearing toast, eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, and fried tomatoes for each of them.

“I feel like I'm being spoiled,” Harry remarked as he glanced up at Severus, and offered his lover a smile. “Coming from you, this is almost romantic.”

“It's been known to happen,” Severus replied with a small smirk, and leant in to offer Harry a light kiss. “Of course, tonight I'll give you a _real_ gift.”

Severus whispered the words softly enough that it was unlikely that Draco would overhear, and Harry just barely resisted the urge to moan out loud at the thought of it.

Harry's gaze flicked to their silent companion, but Draco was picking at his own bacon, not really eating, and as far as Harry could tell, had not overheard the quiet conversation.

“And what do you wish to do today, Harry?” Severus asked as he sat down across from him, his voice the usual, aloof tone that Harry had come to know so well over the last few months.

“I dunno...” Harry replied distractedly as he turned towards Draco and took one of his hands. “I wouldn't mind a walk through the woods or something, just to get out of the house for a bit...Draco, would you feel comfortable with that?”

Draco bit his lip, and glanced away from him and down to the deck of cards next to his breakfast plate. He fiddled with them for a moment, then to Harry's astonishment, Draco laid two cards in front of him that he had not expected— _yes_ , and _try_.

Harry immediately understood the meaning behind the two cards— _yes, Harry, I will try_.

 

Harry hadn't felt this sort of new excitement about his birthday in a long time. He dressed, smiling a little to himself, and laughed out loud when a pair of strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

“Hmm, you smell good,” Severus purred as he planted a soft kiss on the side of Harry's throat. “Did you just hop out of the shower?”

“Mhm,” Harry intoned as he tilted his head up to grin at Severus, “you didn't want to join me, remember?”

“I remember,” Severus replied as he moved in to offer Harry an awkward upside-down kiss. “Although I do recall the _last_ time we tried shower sex, it didn't end so well.”

“There _were_ a lot of elbows in one tiny shower...” Harry mused as he turned in Severus's arms to kiss him again, and shivered with delight at the warm feeling of Severus holding him close, and the sensation of Severus's lips on his. “Maybe you could just make it bigger?”

“Hmm, an autumn project, perhaps, for when Draco is speaking to us again?” Severus teased, and Harry frowned at him, and Severus immediately rolled his eyes. “What is it this time?”

“Is that the only reason you want him well again?” Harry demanded, “so that you can have a shag?”

“Of course not,” Severus snapped as he stepped back from Harry, his brow furrowed with anger. “How _dare_ you suggest such a thing! I was trying to make light of a very serious situation, but it would seem I need more practice.”

“Yes, I would say so,” Harry replied while he took a small step back from his lover. “I just...it feels wrong to make jokes like that when he's still suffering so much, you know?”

“I know,” Severus replied, and sighed softly. He moved towards Harry again. Harry leant against him, enjoying the comfort of having him nearby, and linked his arms casually at the small of the older man's back while he pressed his cheek to the side of his chest. “I am sorry, Harry...it seems where you and Draco are concerned, I do not watch my words as closely as I probably should.”

“You were closed-off for a long time, weren't you?” Harry asked softly, and he felt Severus's head shift slightly as he nodded.

“A long, _long_ time,” he agreed, “I believe I may have forgotten some key points of human interaction during my tenure as a spy.”

“Don't worry,” Harry said as he lifted his eyes to meet Severus's. “I'll teach you.”

 

~*~

 

Draco sat on his bed, fidgeting nervously as he listened to the low thrum of Harry and Severus talking together in their room. He shuffled his flashcards absentmindedly, his eyes fixed on the BSL books on his bedside table that Harry had given him a week before, but he had barely touched up to now.

He trailed his finger along the spines of one of them, trying in vain to ignore the distinct sounds of Severus and Harry beginning to do something other than talk together, and he rolled his eyes.

_They're as bad as a pair of teenagers, I swear..._ Draco thought, his mouth twisted into an expression somewhere between amusement and irritation as he tried desperately to tune them out.

Draco tried to distract himself with his own thoughts, but they only came back to his mother, and the complete lack of contact from her since Severus had revealed what Draco had been doing to himself during his time in the muggle world when she hadn't been present. His stomach turned unpleasantly at the thought, and he quickly picked up one of the BSL books, eager to chase away his dark thoughts.

 

Harry and Severus finally made an appearance more than an hour later, and Draco rolled his eyes at them as he extracted a card from his deck that read, _walk_ , and arched an eyebrow pointedly at Harry to exemplify his meaning. Harry flushed a deep scarlet as he offered Draco an apologetic grin.

“Sorry,” Harry said as he reached for one of Draco's hands, “got...held up.”

_I'll bet_ , Draco thought.

“Come on,” Harry said with a grin, “let's go for a walk.”

Harry tugged Draco towards the back door closest to the woods, and Draco froze as the gravity of what he was about to do barrelled into his mind all at once, and suddenly he felt as though he could not move. Harry skidded to a halt immediately, and turned back to him with his eyes a little wide.

“Draco?” Harry asked uncertainly, his gaze flitting from Draco to Severus and back again. Draco bit his lip, and pulled himself away from Harry, staggering back until he bumped into the arm of the sofa, where he began to hyperventilate.

“Draco, it's okay,” Harry said to him, approaching him slowly, and Draco pressed himself back harder against the chair.

“ _No_ ,” he signed, his hands shaking, and Harry and Severus exchanged a look of surprise at his use of BSL in lieu of his cards. “ _No,_ ” he signed again, “ _afraid._ ”

“Draco,” Harry said, reaching out for him, but not touching him, “it's okay, you're safe—we'll keep you safe.”

“ _Afraid_ ,” he signed again.

“May I try, Harry?” Severus said suddenly, while he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. Severus's voice was smooth and soft, unassuming, and Draco's stomach turned over with amplified panic when Harry hesitated for a moment before he nodded. Severus was not good to him. Severus _betrayed_ him. Why was Harry letting him come near him?

Draco breathed harder, his eyes widening when Harry nodded, and Severus took a step towards him. He pressed himself so hard against the sofa that it moved nearly a full foot across the floor, but neither Harry nor Severus reacted to his fear.

Severus stopped just outside of Draco's personal space, his expression blank and unreadable. To Draco's shock, Severus dropped to his knees in front of Draco, and slowly reached out for his hands. Too surprised to protest, Draco allowed it.

“Draco,” Severus began as he closed both his hands over one of Draco's, “outside these doors is nothing that can hurt you, nor nothing that we would _allow_ to hurt you. There are trees, forest fauna, flowers and herbs—the demons of your past are faraway and locked up for years beyond count—they cannot touch you. Your muggle phantoms, those sick men who touched you and hurt you because they could, they do not know that you are here, nor indeed would any of us tell them that you are here. We care for you, and crass mistakes of the past aside, we only wish one thing of you, Draco—to see you well again, to see you regain your old confidence, and your own voice. We do not expect it tomorrow, or a week from now, or in six months. However long it takes, we will wait, and we will not abandon you—we shall _never_ abandon you.

“What we want of you is for you to take your first steps towards healing yourself, and in this instance, we mean literal steps. You have not stepped out of this house once since your arrival. Neither of us blame you, or think less of you for this, it is perfectly understandable that you would fear the outside world after all that has happened. But now is the time to face your fears, Draco Malfoy. Face them, and when you feel that you cannot, Harry and I will be there to be your strength—we will _always_ be there for you; nothing you can do will ever compel us to abandon you.” Severus paused, and squeezed his hands gently. “We care for you, Draco, and we will be with you as long as you want us there, and...” Severus paused again, and Draco saw the briefest flicker of anguish cross his face before his blank mask settled back in place, and he continued, “I am sorry, Draco, for breaking your trust in me. I care for you deeply, and I had hoped that revealing one of your secrets would push you to speak again. I had never intended to hurt you as deeply as I did, and no amount of apologies will ever be enough to fully rectify what I have done to you.”

Draco bit his lip, his eyes shining as he glanced to Harry. His eyes, too, were glassy, and he was offering Draco a weak, watery smile as he nodded encouragingly.

His hands shaking a little, Draco tugged the limb from Severus's grip, and he let go at once, but he remained on his knees in a movement of supplication as he stared up at Draco pleadingly.

“ _Yes_ ,” Draco signed after a moment of hesitation, not quite ready or able to say _I forgive you_ , but it seemed to be enough for his companions as Harry rushed forward to embrace him, and Severus offered him a small smile as he stood up and patted Draco's shoulder once, as though he knew that Draco would not be comfortable with too much contact from him just yet.

“Oh, Draco,” Harry murmured, squeezing him tightly as he spoke, “it makes me so _happy_ to hear you say that.”

Harry pecked his cheek, and Draco felt his face flood with colour, overwhelmed with the sudden attention from the pair of them, and he buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck, causing the brunet to laugh softly.

 

Once everyone had calmed down from the swell of emotion that Severus's heartfelt apology had caused, the trio took their walk.

Harry stood in the middle, beaming like he'd been gifted with a lottery prize draw, his left hand twined with Severus's, and his right with Draco's. Had it not been for the two of them holding him down, Draco was fairly certain that he would be skipping about like an excited fawn.

Not that Draco could really blame him; things seemed to be finally perking back up—Weasley and the other ruffians were going to prison for a _very_ long time, Harry had not yet left him, and things were slowly getting better with Severus—

_Best not get too positive,_ Draco thought abruptly, _that way, it won't hurt as much when it all falls apart again._

Instead of thinking too much on it, Draco turned his attention to the scenery that surrounded them. He could immediately see why Severus would select this place to live—it was rich with a variety of flora and fauna, both magical and mundane. It had been so long since he'd studied Potions and Herbology that Draco could no longer name all the species that he saw, but the more common ones were still easy to pick out—mugwort, shrivelfigs, belladonna—things that should not be able to grow in such a region, but did, as though by magic.

Draco smiled to himself, and shifted his gaze to Harry.

He was more lovely to look at than the forest itself, and that realization left Draco feeling warm all over. Harry's hand in his was strong, and his presence at his side made Draco feel as though he could accomplish anything. His smile was bright, and his eyes gleamed, reflecting the sun like twin emeralds behind panes of glass, and the dappled, forest light seemed to give his golden skin an ethereal glow, like he was an angel that had descended from the heavens just for him.

_I think I'm in love with him_ , Draco thought, and he squeezed Harry's hand lightly. His heart soared when Harry immediately squeezed the limb in return, reaffirming his feelings instantly.

Draco hoped that Harry would like his gift.

 

When the trio returned to the cottage, there was a handsome barn owl waiting for them on the dining room table that Harry seemed to recognize. It hooted dolefully at him, and held out its leg where a small square package and letter had been tied.

Draco watched as Harry dropped both his and Severus's hands and approached the bird, his fingers quivering a little as he relieved the owl of its package. It hooted once, and took off before Harry had even begun to unwrap it.

Harry stared at the gift for a long moment, and Draco watched as Severus stepped forward, and squeezed Harry's shoulder gently. Draco moved to mirror him, and touched Harry's forearm, wrapping his hand around the limb in silent reassurance. Harry smiled softly as he glanced from Draco to Severus and back again, then shifted his attention back to the gift, and tore away the paper, revealing a Remembrall in a little cubed display case. Harry's brow creased in confusion as he set it aside and slit open the accompanying envelope, and Draco read the short letter over his shoulder.

_Harry,_

_Let us never forget our friendship._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

“It's from Hermione,” Harry said thickly, his eyes a little watery as he stared at the letter, as though he couldn't quite believe it. “I suppose that means she's finally ready to talk to me?”

“It certainly points the way,” Severus agreed, his hand moving from Harry's shoulder to wrap around his waist. “She never did give you a reason for her silence, did she?”

“Not really,” Harry replied. “Even after the trial and sentencing, she just...needed time, and I stopped sending letters as often. I thought I was bothering her, but maybe she just needed time to come to terms with things?”

“It looks like that might be so,” Severus agreed. “I know it is not in your nature, but I would advise you be delicate with her. She has been through more than she ever deserved, and will likely be fragile.”

“It's a bit strange to hear you talk about Hermione like that...”

“Like what?”

“So _nicely_.”

Severus swatted him lightly on the back of the head, making Harry laugh.

“I'll go start on lunch,” Severus said, “you two try to keep out of trouble.”

The older man paused long enough to lightly brush Draco's shoulder in a gentle caress, moving from the front so that Draco could see him coming. Draco managed a small smile, and the two young men watched Severus disappear into the kitchen before Draco turned to Harry, and tugged on his hand.

“What?”

“ _Gift_ ,” Draco signed, smiling faintly as he tugged Harry's hand again. “ _Come. Gift._ ”

“Oh,” Harry said, his eyes widening in understanding. “You want to give me a gift?”

Draco smiled, nodding a little as he tugged on Harry's hands again, and the brunet followed him willingly, a small smile on his face as he allowed Draco to lead him out of the main area of the cottage, down the hall, and to Draco's room.

Draco shut his door, and turned back to Harry. He was still smiling blandly, watching Draco with a sweet sort of innocent adoration upon his face that made Draco's heart flutter. Draco caught his bottom lip between his teeth, and stepped towards Harry, and signed the only full sentence he currently knew—“ _close your eyes._ ”

Harry obeyed, and his eyes slid shut. He remained still, radiating his trust in Draco without having to say a word, and even with his eyes closed, he continued to smile to himself, as though nothing in the world could tarnish his present happiness.

Draco took a deep breath to steady himself, nervousness and edging excitement lancing through his veins as he stood there, then slowly he closed the distance between himself and Harry.

Harry did not react when Draco rested his hands on his shoulders, but his eyes flicked open in surprise when they moved to his cheeks. Draco smiled and pressed one hand over Harry's eyes in a clear hint, and with a short laugh, Harry shut his eyes again.

Draco held his breath as he inched closer, and stroked his thumb across Harry's high cheekbone as he leant in, and at last bestowed upon Harry his gift.

Draco pressed his lips to Harry's, and his eyes fluttered shut as he did so. Harry's breath hitched in surprise, and he stiffened, but did not immediately object the show of affection. Draco's heart soared, and he tilted his head to the side, planning to deepen the kiss. This small action seemed to act as some sort of catalyst, and pushed Harry to react—although not quite in the way that Draco had hoped.

“No,” Harry breathed, pulling back from the kiss with a soft gasp, and he tugged himself suddenly out of Draco's embrace. Draco's eyes flew open in surprise, and he stared at Harry, who looked as spooked as a frightened animal. “Oh, Draco, no.”

Draco licked his lips, caught between frustration at Harry's refusal, and heartbreak. His eyes filled with tears, causing his vision of Harry to warp, and the brunet hurried forward, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

“Don't misunderstand,” Harry murmured, “I do want that with you, and I do care for you a lot, but...you're still recovering. You can't want that right now, it's too soon.”

Angry at Harry's attempt to dictate what Draco wanted or did not want, Draco pulled himself violently from his hold, tears dripping down his cheeks as he shakily signed, “ _want_.”

“You can't want this yet, Draco,” Harry said pleadingly, and moved forward, possibly to embrace Draco again, but froze when Draco stepped back.

_I know what I want, Harry_ , Draco thought, not quite able to form the words with his hands. Angry and hurt, he stepped back towards the door to his bedroom, and opened it pointedly. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but his shoulders slumped, and he obediently stepped out of the room.

Draco shut it again, and listened to the soft progression of Harry stepping away from his room and back down the hall towards the main area of the cottage. Only when his footsteps faded away did Draco move over to his bed, where he lay down and wept into his pillow.


	21. Misplaced Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update scheduled for April 26th. Enjoy :) This chapter is a little shorter than I would have liked, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

Chapter Twenty-One – Misplaced Affection

 

“What happened this time?”

Harry had been out of the hall and back in Severus's presence for less than ten seconds before the older man had spoken, and Harry winced at how easily Severus was able to read him.

“Nothing...” Harry mumbled, and Severus snorted derisively as he cast a stasis charm on the food he had been preparing, and turned fully to his lover.

“Rubbish, Harry,” Severus snapped impatiently. “You look as though someone has _died_. Now, I repeat: What _happened_?”

“It's...Draco,” Harry hedged, “he...he did something.”

“Draco?” Severus asked as he jerked up a little, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“I didn't—I mean...” Harry dropped his gaze to his feet as he sighed heavily. “I didn't know that he was going to do that, and I—”

“Harry, spit it out,” Severus interrupted impatiently. “What happened?”

“Draco signed to me that he had a gift for me,” Harry explained, his voice little more than a low mumble as he spoke. “I...I had no idea what he was going to do, and then...he kissed me.”

“You two kiss all the time,” Severus pointed out, “how was this different?”

“It wasn't just some sort of affectionate kiss on the cheek,” Harry replied crossly, “it was like...a proper kiss. And he _can't_ want that yet! I told him as much, and—”

“Oh no,” Severus groaned, and pressed his fingers to his temples. “Harry, what have you _done_?”

“ _Me_?” Harry demanded incredulously, “what about him?”

“No, I most _certainly_ mean you,” Severus snarled. “You are his only safe space, and you _rejected_ him. How do you think that will feel to him, when he has so little already? He probably thinks that he now has no one!”

“But...but...I didn't mean it like that!” Harry protested desperately, but Severus's expression did not change.

“He likely does not know that,” he replied simply, “you have just brought crashing down all the work we have done over the last few months with him in one fell swoop!” Severus's chest was heaving like an angry bull's, then with another snarl of anger, he turned away from him. “Do not move, I am going to check on Draco.”

Without another word, Severus abandoned the kitchen and swept towards the hallway in a dramatic swirl of his black robes.

Harry stayed, listening to Severus's steady footfalls across the hardwood, until he heard the distinct creak of a door opening and closing distantly. As stealthily as he could, Harry tiptoed down the hall after Severus.

Harry flicked his wand as he came to a stop outside of Draco's room, silently summoning his set of Extendable Ears, and slipped the end under Draco's closed door before he crouched down, and began to listen.

“—me what happened, Draco,” Severus said softly and consolingly. “Draco, I am sorry that he reacted that way, he should not have—he did not understand that you still know your own mind, regardless how long you maintain your silence. He does love you, Draco, his rejection was out of love—he was afraid of hurting you.”

Silence followed, but Harry could hear soft hiccoughs. like Draco was crying. Harry felt his stomach knot with guilt.

“He does not hate you, Draco,” Severus said, his words forceful and firm, but also reassuring. “I know him, as you do, and he could never hate you, not now, especially when he loves you so dearly.”

Silence again, punctuated by soft, rasping gasps of breath.

“I know that you want him, and he wants you too, but, as I said, he fears hurting you or pushing you too soon. I know that you know what you want—but Harry, I am afraid, sees you as someone he needs to protect. I can speak to him on your behalf, if you like.”

Harry abruptly tugged the Extendable Ear from the door, and stuffed it into his pocket before he slipped back to the kitchen to wait for Severus to return. He wasn't certain he wanted to hear Draco's answer—he had a feeling that Severus would speak with him either way, regardless what Draco's decision was, but that did not ease any of his panic for how to best solve his latest case of Foot in Mouth Disease.

He paced, his stomach gurgling unpleasantly as he stared at the hall, until after another ten minutes Severus stepped back out, looking just as grave as earlier.

“Well, congratulations,” Severus said acidly as he stepped up to Harry and dragged him farther from the hallway, “Draco is now convinced that you detest him.”

“But I _don't_!” Harry protested hotly, “what did he say, specifically? He can't think that—I _don't_ hate him.”

“He would not speak to me beyond use of his cards or one-word sign language,” Severus replied. “Under normal circumstances, I would have been elated by this show of trust in me, but right now he feels utterly and completely betrayed by you. He was _beginning_ to trust in me from what I said earlier, but it is not enough, I think, for he made little sense. _Hate_ and _lost_ were his two favourite words when I spoke to him, and he could not stop crying. I say again: congratulations on making Draco believe he is well and truly alone.”

Harry raked his hands through his hair as he began to pace. He could feel Severus's icy glare burning into him as he moved, but he could not bring himself to look at the older man. He had to fix this—he _needed_ to fix this.

“I need to go for a walk, I need to think,” Harry said suddenly, and made for the back door.

“Is this a walk where you shall return, or not?”

Harry dug his heels into the stone floor as he skidded to a halt, then turned back to Severus and frowned at him, his stomach turning over with anguish when he spotted the clear uncertainty that was flickering in the older man's eyes. He seemed to truly believe that Harry would leave and abandon them, and Harry hated that his lover genuinely thought that Harry was capable of doing such a horrible thing after all they'd been through together.

“I'll be back,” Harry affirmed. “I just need to be alone to think for a bit.”

Severus did not appear to believe him. Harry could see the vulnerability in his eyes that refused to fade; he was just as afraid as Draco that Harry would leave him—not that Severus would ever admit it.

Impulsively, Harry moved briefly away from the door and back to Severus, and crushed his lips against his lover's in a hard kiss.

“I _will_ come back,” Harry breathed, “I'm not leaving you.”

“And if you did, I'd simply go and fetch you,” Severus murmured, and Harry laughed weakly.

“You better,” he replied, “you and Draco are the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I refuse to lose it.”

“Go and take your walk, and think of how to mend this,” Severus replied as he gave Harry a gentle nudge. “I will not help you, you need to do this on your own.”

Harry nodded in understanding, kissed Severus one last time, and held onto his hand as he wandered towards the door again, only dropping the limb when he was too far away to continue to grasp it.

Harry glanced back at Severus for a moment, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he thought of what to say to reassure him that he was indeed coming back, and not running away from his problems anymore.

“Severus, I...” he paused, and swallowed nervously. Despite the cold and closed-off expression on Severus's face, Harry could still feel the wavering uncertainty in his lover—that fear that Harry would take off, and not return. “I...love you.”

Harry smiled when Severus's cheeks dusted with colour, and the older man's eyes widened a little in surprise. It had possibly been years—decades, maybe—since anyone had told Severus that, and Harry knew it. He had been stunned into silence by Harry's proclamation, but strangely, Harry did not feel hurt when Severus did not return the words of endearment. Instead, he offered Severus another smile, and slipped out the back door without another word.

 

As Harry stepped away from the cottage and found one of the forest's paths, he felt both broken by being out on his own without Draco or Severus nearby, and at the same time as though new life was being breathed into him by the wonder of the forest that surrounded him. The sun was still out, filtering through the leaves of the trees, and it dappled the leaf litter and stones upon the ground with a faint green light. Harry touched the bark of a towering elder tree, and felt a warmth pool in his stomach that had nothing to do with the temperature of the summer air. It was as though he was not walking alone in the woods, but surrounded by loved ones.

_How am I going to fix this?_ Harry wondered as he walked, _will Draco ever trust me again?_

“I don't know what to do,” Harry said softly as he gazed up at the sky, “I don't know what I'll do if Draco rejects me like I...”

_...Like I rejected him._

Harry sniffed, and his vision wavered as tears flooded his eyes as the realization of what he had done hit him squarely in the chest. He blinked, and the tears dripped down his cheeks. Harry sniffed sharply as he wiped his face, but the tears kept coming as he walked, regardless what he did to try and staunch the flow.

Uncaring that he'd barely cleared the house's perimeter, Harry turned and rushed back to the cottage.

 

He did not pause to greet Severus as he hurried through the kitchen and sitting room, before he skidded to a halt in front of the door to Draco's room, and froze.

“I need to practice,” Harry mumbled to himself as he began to pace the narrow expanse of the hall, his hands running through his hair as he tried to calm himself down. “Okay, um...Draco, I'm sorry. No, that's incredibly stupid. Erm...Draco, I'm an arse. Better. Draco, I love you, please don't shut me out. Wait, is that too soon?” Harry groaned, and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Why is this so _hard_?”

“Draco,” Harry tried again while he continued to pace, “I didn't reject you because I hate you, or am sickened by you—I don't give a rat's fart about your past. I am not disgusted by you because of what happened, or what you did. I rejected you because I'm worried about you. I'm afraid of accidentally hurting you by doing these sorts of things too soon, and I know that you think you're okay, beyond not speaking, I mean, but I'm not so sure. I'm just scared for you; you getting your strength, voice, and independence back...getting all that back is so important, and I'd hate to muck it all up because I put myself above you.”

“Oh, what am I doing?” Harry asked with a huff as he broke off his monologue, and buried his face in his hands. “This will never work...”

Without knocking on the door, Harry pressed his back to the wall, and slid down it until he was slumped in a heap just outside of Draco's room.

At the same moment, the lock on the bathroom door clicked, and Draco stepped out.

 

~*~

 

Draco hadn't known what he wanted to do when he'd overheard Harry's jumble of heartfelt apologies, but he knew that he couldn't sit idly by when Harry had said _it—I love you_.

Harry _loved_ Draco.

It was ridiculous and impossible, but somehow, amazingly, Harry had said it—and _meant_ it. Draco wanted to cry out, to jump for joy, and at the same time thump Harry for his stupid self-sacrificing moral code. As he stood in the hall, gazing at Harry, he reminded himself that the terrified look on the brunet's face was out of concern, and not because he found Draco disgusting, though despite this reassurance, Draco did not wholly believe it.

“D-Draco...” Harry stammered when he saw him, and jumped to his feet before he took a small step back. Draco felt his heart clench at the sight, and he took a small, shaky breath in an effort to gather his racing thoughts.

“ _Stay,_ ” Draco signed quickly, his eyes pleading, and held out his hands to Harry, like a child begging for comfort from its parent. When Harry didn't move, he added, “ _please_.”

Harry was crying, though Draco was not entirely certain _why_ he was crying. Draco moved forward a little, and thankfully, Harry did not move. Draco stepped forward again, and still Harry remained stationary, stiff as a statue, his eyes wide and conflicted, as though he had no idea what to do.

“ _Love,_ ” Draco signed, then recalled how to phrase it properly with his hands, and he reiterated, “ _I love you. Want. Love. Please._ ”

“I know that you do,” Harry replied nervously, his eyes still shiny and his face wet with tears. “But I don't...I don't know what that means.”

“ _I love you,_ ” Draco repeated, his hands shaking in his desperation to get Harry to understand. “ _Means love._ ”

“I know, but...” Harry trailed off, and sniffed a little as he lifted his hands to his face, and dried his tears. “I'm just afraid of hurting you.”

“ _Not hurt. Love,_ ” Draco signed emphatically, while he grit his teeth with frustration. _How is it that a so-called hero like Harry can be so bloody thick?_

Draco stepped forward again, and Harry still did not move. Draco continued to inch forward slowly, like he was approaching a skittish wild animal, until at last he reached Harry, and wrapped his arms around his neck while he pressed himself against him.

It took Harry a moment, but at last he wrapped his arms around Draco's waist in return, his head dropping to the blond's shoulder as he let out a small, soft sigh.

“'M sorry,” Harry mumbled, tickling Draco's throat with his breath. “'M so sorry...didn't mean to hurt you, was scared...”

Draco reached up to stroke Harry's hair, his fingers disappearing into the dark locks as the fair digits twined with them, and Harry let out a small sigh as he shivered against Draco. He could feel Harry's tears dampening his shirt, but he did not protest it, allowing Harry to cry.

“I'm...I'm just so scared for you,” Harry continued between small sniffles, “I'm afraid of making things harder for you, and you've already been through so much, I don't want to muck things up and make it worse...”

Draco took Harry's shoulders in his hands, and forced the brunet to back up a little. The sight of him with his face streaked with tears nearly broke Draco's heart, but he forced himself to swallow his anguish as he smiled at Harry and shook his head a little.

“No?” Harry asked, blinking bemusedly. “What...oh, you mean I can't make it worse?” Draco nodded. “How do you know that?”

“ _Just know_ ,” Draco signed, still smiling at Harry as he did so. “ _You are good. Not bad._ ”

“You don't know that,” Harry mumbled as his gaze dropped shamefully to his feet. “If I'd been better, I would've helped you sooner.”

Draco moved his hand to Harry's chin, and gently coaxed his gaze back up. He pulled his hand back and signed, “ _You cannot change the past. Learn from it._ ”

“When did you get so damn wise?” Harry demanded, though he was smiling weakly, and his tone was gentle, despite the harshness of his words. “I know that you're right, but it's still hard. I keep mucking things up with you, and I don't _want_ to hurt you, but I always manage to anyway.”

Draco closed the distance between them, and brushed his lips across Harry's cheek. His right hand stroked the opposite side of the brunet's face, while the left dropped to Harry's hand, and Draco laced their fingers together. Harry gasped a little, startled by the intimacy of the touch, and Draco offered him a little smile while his eyes gleamed with hope. He shifted his position, but Harry seemed to guess what he was about to do, and pressed a finger to his lips, stopping him short.

“Draco,” Harry murmured, his voice little more than a soft plea, “I don't know about this...I know that you think you're ready, but...”

Draco mirrored him, and pressed a finger to Harry's lips, silencing him. He took a slow breath, his head spun in a panic as he braced himself for what he was about to do, and after he swallowed once, he moved towards the thing he most feared, and prayed that Harry's presence would help him do what needed to be done, to _show_ Harry how certain he was of this.

“Harry,” he said, his voice low, hoarse, and shaky from lack of use, and he moved forward for a kiss.

This time, Harry did not stop him, but welcomed his kiss readily.


	22. Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for May 3rd, aka my birthday ^.^

Chapter Twenty-Two – Voices

 

Harry's breath stilled in surprise, and as Draco kissed him, Harry struggled to form a coherent thought.

_Draco spoke._

_Draco is kissing me._

_Draco_ spoke _._

Harry had no idea which thing to address first, but at the same time, his body was reacting quite favourably to Draco's sweet, tender kisses. With a soft, feeble moan, Harry fell into them, kissing Draco back before he was fully aware of what he was doing, and his conscience reasserted itself with a violent jolt of guilt in the pit of Harry's stomach.

“Wait, no,” Harry breathed, pulling back sharply, and cursed when he saw the resurgence of rejection begin to register upon Draco's face. “Draco, no, I'm not rejecting you, that kiss was _lovely_ , but...you spoke. You _spoke_. You said my name.”

“ _Want you_ ,” Draco signed nervously, and fixed his gaze at his feet. At the same moment, Harry noticed that the blond was hyperventilating.

Harry closed a hand over one of Draco's and lifted it to his lips. He could feel his face flushing red with embarrassment at the gentlemanly action as he kissed the back of it, but it was well worth it when he spotted the faint flush that was beginning to colour Draco's fair cheeks.

“I know that you do, love,” Harry said softly, “and I know you're probably sick of hearing this, but we _need_ to talk about this. Would you feel more comfortable discussing it out of the hall? In your room, maybe?”

Draco nodded reluctantly, his eyes downcast, but Harry did not miss the way his brow was pinched and his eyes were narrowed—he was frustrated, not sad, which Harry felt was a good thing. His hand moved to Draco's back, and he led the blond out of the hall and into his bedroom. Draco shuffled his feet, his movements slow and reluctant, while Harry guided him until they were perched on Draco's bed side by side, with their backs resting against the wall. Draco shifted so that he was leaning against Harry, and Harry smiled a little as he leant in to brush Draco's lips with his own, and he shivered with delight at the warm feeling that seemed to flood every part of him, in particular when Draco smiled up at him warmly.

“Talk to me,” Harry said encouragingly, “any way you like—cards, or with BSL, or with your words. Tell me what's going on inside that head of yours.”

“ _Confused_ ,” Draco signed. “Want,” he added verbally, his voice still soft, as well as hoarse from lack of use. Harry beamed at the sound of it.

“You're confused because you want...something?” Harry hedged, and Draco frowned, as though he felt that Harry was being stupid on purpose. “Oh, you want...me, or us?”

Draco nodded.

“Why are you confused by that?” Harry asked as he lifted a hand to Draco's head, and carded his fingers through his hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “You seemed pretty certain of yourself in the hall just now.”

“S-Severus,” Draco stammered, his voice so soft that Harry had to strain to hear him properly. “ _Betrayed,_ ” he signed.

“Oh, I think I understand,” Harry said, “you're confused because of how Severus told your mum about what happened?” Draco nodded, and leant his head against Harry's shoulder again. “You know, it's all right to forgive him for that, you know...if you want to. It was a bad move, I agree, he shouldn't've told your mum, but he did it because he loves you. He thought it would help, not hurt. And he doesn't blame you for your lack of trust in him, he worked out pretty quick that it was a bad idea, and he's been trying to make amends for it...”

“ _Time_ ,” Draco signed with a small frown, and Harry nodded as he moved to embrace the shivering blond, and kiss his cheek.

“Everything takes time, and no one expects you to get better faster than you are ready to,” Harry said softly. “Severus gets that—I promise you, he does. He is always worried for you, and he gave me almighty hell for...you know...earlier.”

“Talked,” Draco said softly, and signed, “ _Severus and I_.”

“Yeah, I think he wanted to do some damage control after my extreme cock-up,” Harry said dryly, and Draco huffed a small laugh. “I _am_ sorry, you know, I didn't mean to upset you. I _did_ like my gift, but I was just scared of pushing you too soon, even by accident.”

“ _Severus said that,_ ” Draco signed, “ _you were scared._ ”

“Some Gryffindor I am,” Harry added teasingly, and Draco smiled again. “What can I do to help now? You're talking a little, but we all want you to get the rest of the way there. What should we do now?”

Draco paled, and shook his head quickly, causing Harry to frown with confusion.

“What did I say?” Harry asked, “was that wrong?”

“ _Pushing_ ,” Draco signed, and eyed Harry accusingly.

“I'm sorry,” Harry said, and frowned. “I didn't mean it like that. I just want to help.”

“Patience,” Draco mumbled without looking at Harry, and leant into his side.

“You mean I need to be patient with you?” Harry asked, and his companion nodded a little. “All right, I can do that. You just tell me what you need, when you need it, and I promise to stop asking. Does that work?”

Draco smiled, and moved to kiss Harry lightly upon the lips.

“Yes,” he whispered.

 

It hadn't been the most fun birthday Harry had ever had, but all things considered, he could have asked for no greater gift than to hear Draco speak again, even if it was slow and halting. By dinner, Draco had finally ventured out of his room, and smiled meekly as he stuck to Harry's side while Severus served them a sumptuous beef stew, and a rich chocolate cake for pudding that made Harry flush under all the attention.

“Are you embarrassed, Harry?” Severus teased as he reached out to rest a hand at the back of Harry's neck, his long fingers tickling the patch of skin that he found there, which made Harry shiver a little.

“Not really,” Harry replied with a meek smile, “just...still not completely used to celebrating my birthday like this, is all.”

Severus chuckled and pulled Harry in for a kiss. He had expected it to be nothing more than a simple peck, and was therefore caught off-guard when Severus deepened the kiss, using his tongue to pry Harry's mouth open and thoroughly taste him. Harry whimpered a little, caught between arousal and embarrassment for kissing Severus like this in front of Draco, and when they finally broke apart, Draco was watching them with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, as though he was trying to keep from laughing.

“Would you look at that, Draco,” Severus purred, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I seem to have struck the Birthday Boy dumb without the use of magic.”

“Oh, there was definitely magic involved,” Harry replied, his voice a little weak as he stared up at Severus. “You are one of the best kissers I've ever met...you _have_ to be using some kind of charm or something.”

Draco smirked knowingly at the pair of them, and Harry felt himself flush again under Draco's gaze. He spotted the blond flit his eyes towards Severus more than once, his expression shifting from amused to calculating, as though he was trying to work some sort of mystery out, though what kind, Harry had no idea.

“Contrary to popular belief, I do not need to resort to magic to reduce you to a pile of jelly,” Severus replied teasingly as he kissed Harry again, completely uncaring that Draco was still watching. “My perfectly honed skill in the realm of snogging comes from years of practice.”

“And just _who_ have you been snogging before me?” Harry demanded with mock offence, and barked a laugh when Severus's gaze locked with Draco's, and both former Slytherins smirked.

_  
_

That evening, earlier than usual, Draco pulled Harry aside for a goodnight kiss. His shyness for overt displays of emotion in front of Severus once more rearing its head as he glanced towards the older man, who was pointedly ignoring them while he sipped his strong, black tea.

“He'll be patient with you,” Harry murmured softly as he carded his fingers again through Draco's silky hair, and pecked his lips again. “He's all bark and no bite, you know that. When you feel ready to give him an inch, regardless what he might say about _making_ you talk, you know it's not true, right? He'll take it slow with you, just like I have.”

Draco smiled a little, but it wasn't a hopeful or mirthful smile that Harry saw on his face, but a humourless one, as though Draco did not wholly believe him.

“ _Goodnight, Harry,_ ” Draco signed, “ _Happy Birthday_.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied with a small smile and another kiss. Draco stepped back from him, a sultry smile playing across his lips while Harry watched Draco turn and saunter towards his bedroom, hips swaying, before with a tiny groan of longing, Harry turned back to Severus, who was still perched on the sofa, waiting for him to return.

Harry slumped down next to the older man with a sigh, and laughed when Severus tugged him down farther, resting Harry's head against his thigh, while Severus's long fingers wound gently through his hair.

“Feels nice...” Harry mumbled with a soft sigh of contentment, and Severus smiled at him as Harry slipped his eyes shut.

“Good,” Severus replied softly. “After this afternoon, I think we all deserve to relax a little.”

“Mostly Draco, considering I accidentally made him think that I hated him...”

“He seems to be getting over it nicely,” Severus mused as he gazed down at Harry, while a sudden plan began to form in Harry's mind—something that would be far from relaxing, but certainly pleasurable for the both of them.

“I saw that kiss that you two—” Severus continued, but he was abruptly cut off when Harry suddenly lurched up and pecked Severus on the lips.

“—shared,” he finished, and stared down at Harry with confusion. “What was that for?”

“Indirect Draco kiss,” Harry replied as he offered the older man a grin. “Was it good?”

“You are ridiculous,” Severus replied as he pulled Harry back up to kiss him properly. “And yes, it was lovely. May I ask what other body parts Draco may have kissed, or would you deem that too inappropriate?”

“I'll let it slide if you carry me to the bedroom like a new bride and then shag me senseless.”

“Your chat-up lines are extraordinarily strange. Has anyone told you that?”

“A few people, yeah,” Harry said, as he moved in for a kiss to mask his embarrassment. “Will you carry me anyway?”

“I will on one condition,” Severus replied smoothly, using his low tone of voice that made Harry feel hot all over. “If I carry you and you say _whee_ like you did last time, I will drop you, lock you out of the bedroom, and you can sleep on the floor. Am I clear?”

“You are just ten tons of fun,” Harry answered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, but Severus pointedly ignored it as the older man scooped him up, and without a moment's pause, he cried out, “ _wheeeee!_ ” as Severus carried him.

Thankfully, his lover did not drop him until they reached the bed, which Harry classified as something of a miracle, given how strongly he rolled his eyes as they went.

~*~

Draco listened to the soft sounds of Harry and Severus hurrying down the hall to their bedroom, and he pursed his lips to stifle a laugh at how utterly terrible they both were at being stealthy.

_And how neither of them lost their lives during the war is a complete mystery,_ Draco thought, a soft laugh slipping between his lips as he got up from bed, crossed the room, and sat down next to the wall to listen to their giggling banter, heavily muffled by the wall that separated them.

Soon, he began to hear soft, muffled whispers, closely followed by the distinct sound of Harry moaning, and Draco's breath hitched in surprise.

Draco shivered, his eyes slipping shut as he listened to Harry and Severus together, indecision and niggling guilt for his eavesdropping beginning to creep into his mind, and his breath caught when he felt his pyjama bottoms begin to tighten.

“Oh,” Draco breathed as his eyes opened again, and he gazed down at himself, not quite believing what he was seeing.

Draco reached out and brushed his fingers over his own hardness, and it twitched at his light touch, while he hissed softly at the sweet sensation.

Severus groaned from the other room as he said something, and Harry's high giggle joined the jumble of sounds of their lovemaking. Draco shivered again as he noted the stain that had begun to bloom on his pyjamas, and he made a snap decision as he yanked down the front of the garment, and simultaneously pressed his ear harder against the wall.

“ _Please..._ ” Draco heard Harry whimper, and he shuddered when he heard the muffled creak of the mattress shifting.

Draco closed his hand over the shaft of his cock, his mind lost in a conflicted haze, and he began to stroke himself in time to the sounds of Harry and Severus's pleasure filtering in from the other room.

He tried to keep himself quiet, but as he pumped his hand over his cock, soft whines and harsh gasps of breath slipped past Draco's lips, his eyes clenching shut as he listened to the bedstead hit the wall as Severus took Harry, and Draco's mind dissolved into fantasy as he imagined _himself_ between the two men, and with a final gasp, he painted his hand with his own seed as he came, at the same time that he heard Severus and Harry reach their peak.

_What did I just do?_ Draco asked himself as he slowly came down from the post-orgasmic high, he panting softly as tried to clean himself up with the sleeve of his pyjamas. _Did I just...while_ listening _to them? I must be some kind of sick freak to do that..._

Draco buried his hands as he tried to calm down and breathe, but his hands still smelt of what he had done, which only made his panic worse.

Draco crawled away from the wall and back into bed while he tried to think of what to do. He made it back in between the sheets just as Harry burst in, looking appropriately dishevelled, his face flushed, hair a mess, and curious red marks on both of his wrists, as though he had been bound.

“Draco?” Harry asked between sharp pants, “are you all right? I heard...that distress charm thing I have set up went off, but you look fine...did you have a nightmare?”

Draco shook his head.

“Did you have a panic attack?”

Draco flushed, and nodded.

Harry eyed him curiously as he stepped farther into the room. His nostrils flared, and Draco's flush deepened as Harry approached him slowly, before he finally sat down on the edge of the bed. He reached for Draco, and he hesitated for a moment before he relented, and leant against Harry's side while the brunet planted a gentle kiss to Draco's forehead, and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Wanna talk about it?” Harry asked softly, and immediately Draco shook his head.

“Private,” he whispered, and Harry offered him a small, humourless smile.

“I've seen you naked—both figuratively and literally. What's so private that you can't tell _me_?” Harry asked, his tone on the edge of teasing, and Draco smiled weakly.

“ _Very private_ ,” he signed, “ _don't want to talk about it_.”

“Okay,” Harry replied, and leant in to kiss him lightly. “When you're ready to talk about it, I'll be there for you. So will Severus, if you want; no pressure, okay?”

“Love you,” Draco said softly, and Harry answered with another kiss. This one was gentler, more tender, and Draco shivered as he kissed him back, both wanting to run from the physical attention, and wanting to do more.

_But what does that mean?_ Draco wondered as Harry sat with him for a while longer, doing nothing more than stroke his hair and hold him close in an effort to relax him. _Does it mean I'm getting better, or worse? Maybe sex is the only way I can show my gratitude properly, and they're going along with it because I'm so—_

Draco shivered as he forcibly broke off the thought—it was just too horrible to think about.

 

Draco woke the following morning with his head perched in Harry's lap. The brunet's hand was resting against the side of Draco's neck, as though he'd fallen asleep petting Draco's hair, and he was resting back against the headboard of the bed, still sitting up, but with his head lolled to the side.

Draco sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he went, and watched Harry, who had not moved, still in a heavy sleep in his upright position.

He reached forward, and cradled Harry's head in his hand. Harry did not move ad Draco slowly and carefully shifted his position until he was lying down in the bed more comfortably.

Draco lay down with him, wide awake, but content to watch Harry sleep. He smiled as he leant in to kiss the corner of Harry's mouth, and his joy amplified as Harry turned in sleep towards him, as though keen to get a proper kiss from his companion.

 

Soon, Draco's stomach began to demand that he get up, and after a quick trip to the toilet, he drew on his dressing gown, pocketed his flashcards, and ambled into the kitchen, where Severus was already up and preparing breakfast.

“Good morning, Draco,” Severus said with the ghost of a smile, “Happy Lughnasadh...do you still celebrate it?”

Draco had rather forgotten that it was a holiday in the wizarding world, and he shook his head a little. Severus smiled wryly, and offered him a bowl of the porridge he was preparing, which was topped with a mixture of apples, cinnamon, and sugar, like a breakfast version of traditional Lughnasadh fare. He accepted it, and smiled shyly at the older man, while he signed, “ _thank you_ ,” with his free hand.

Severus's smile widened ever so slightly, and he reached out to brush a hand very lightly over Draco's shoulder in a gentle, loving touch.

“Go and eat,” he said, “I shall join you, if you like.”

Draco nodded, not quite able to meet Severus's gaze, but the older man seemed to understand the sentiment as Draco scampered over to the table, and began to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Lughnasadh is pronounced Loo-nas-ah. Sometimes it's called Lammas as well.


	23. Connection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, so sorry about the delay in posting this, life got chaotic, so I had to put a couple things temporarily on the back burner. I am also moving Update Day to Sundays, so my next update will be May 20th. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Twenty-Three – Connection

 

As the summer began to progress, Draco was improving in leaps and bounds. However, he was still skittish in front of Severus, and as far as Harry knew, had not yet spoken to him, not even when Harry was present and acting as a buffer between them. Though Harry found this mildly disappointing, Severus did not seem to mind all that much.

“It is better than it was, Harry,” Severus said one evening after Draco had headed off to bed. Severus's nose was buried in a thick, dusty volume of some sort of potions text, while Harry was working on the seventh draft of a letter to Hermione. “I have no complaints or protests as to his demeanour in my presence; these things take time.”

“I know that, I just wish things were...you know, _normal_ ,” Harry replied as he paused, hissing a curse, and crumpled up another letter before he pitched it into the fire.

“Who on earth are you writing to that has you so agitated?” Severus demanded suddenly, and Harry grimaced as he glanced up to his companion from the corner of his eye.

“Hermione,” he replied, “everything I say just sounds stupid or unintentionally condescending...why are all the decent people in my life so irrevocably fucked up?”

“Because good people tend to be targeted as weak-minded by those who feel a need to manipulate and control...or something to that effect,” Severus replied monotonously. “In Miss Granger's case, she was targeted by someone who she deeply trusted, and thus found it harder to escape due to her emotional attachments. It is not her fault, but it, unfortunately, happens to the best of us.”

“You sound like you're speaking from experience.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Can I ask about it?” Harry asked, and at last Severus turned to face him, a bitterly twisted smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I would rather you not,” Severus said. “Suffice it to say my father was what those in the psychological field would call an _abusive shithead_. My mother acted many a time as my human shield, but it did neither of us any good. That is all that you need to know.”

“Oh.” Harry bit his lip, uncertain what to say as he gazed at Severus, who promptly rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Do stop looking at me like that, Harry,” he huffed. “It was a long time ago, and my father is very much _dead_. You needn't waste your sympathy on me.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, it's just...” Harry trailed off as he heaved a sigh. “Never mind, I just worry, that's all. You don't talk much, and I just don't know how to ask you things without you getting terse or cranky.”

“If I was having a genuine issue I would likely not hesitate to discuss it, but what occurred with my father happened a long time ago, Harry. Perhaps I am not recovered from it in the _strictest_ sense of the word, but I am coping quite happily with it. Now, please, may we turn this conversation back to the topic at hand: what is proving so difficult in writing this letter to Miss Granger?”

“I just...I don't know what to say,” Harry said with a small sigh of frustration. “I mean, at the hearing, the Weasleys were _horrible_ to her, even after they found out what Ron was doing. Then that letter she sent me...at first I thought it was nice, but the more I think about it, the more I worry that she might... _do something_. I also don't want it to sound like I have no faith in her, you know? Because she's just so tough, between the three of us, she was always the strongest and smartest, I mean...she lost her parents in a way that's almost as horrible as...” Harry paused, and shook his head. “They can't even remember her, and when she went down to find them in Australia, she came back just _distraught_ because she couldn't break the charm she'd put on them, but then carried on like she was fine with it. And now she's lost everyone, but I want her to know that she hasn't lost me and...and...and...you see my problem?”

“I do, Harry,” Severus said as he extended a hand to him, curling his fingers in a clear _come hither_ motion. “Come closer, please.”

Harry's brow knitted with confusion, and he inched forward, but Severus merely arched an eyebrow at him, indicating for him to come even closer still. Harry obeyed, but Severus merely repeated the action over and over until Harry was more or less in the older man's lap, when he casually draped his arms around Harry, and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Now, Harry,” Severus said in between kisses, “I want you to take a moment to breathe, and allow your mind to calm. You are far too anxious to compose a letter to Miss Granger with any form of coherency, and I believe that writing to her as you are now will only add to the stress of you both, not take away from it.”

“Your method for _calming me,_ as you call it, isn't exactly helping...” Harry mumbled, and Severus arched a brow at him, but Harry could see the sparkling amusement in the older man's eyes, making it clear that he knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

“I am quite certain of that, but tasting your lips is far too tempting to ignore...”

“ _Severus,_ ” Harry whined, “are you going to help me with my letter or not?”

“Oh, fine, fine...” Severus replied with a soft, impatient huff, and summoned a small scroll of parchment and a self-inking quill, and began to write. Not thirty seconds later, he held out the completed letter to Harry, who took it and glanced down, only to read it twice more to ensure that he wasn't seeing things.

 

_Hermione,_

_Can we meet?_

_Harry_

 

“That's _it_?” Harry asked incredulously.

“You could add in a _please_ , if you are so inclined,” Severus said, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“That is _not_ what I meant,” Harry replied with a huff of annoyance. “I spent the better part of two hours trying to compose a nice letter, and when I accept the help of _Mister Wordsmith_ I get a three-word composition?”

“Brevity is the soul of wit,” Severus countered blandly, and Harry scowled.

“I don't even know what that _means!_ ”

“It _means_ that Miss Granger is going through a difficult time, and is likely in need of some company, given that she is so isolated at the moment. It would be better to see her in person as opposed to contact simply through a letter.”

“But what about...” Harry trailed off, and jerked his head towards the hall, where Draco was resting.

“Speak to him before you write the letter, if that would help to quell your fears,” Severus said, “but I think it would do both of you some good to be separated for a little while.”

“Why's that, then?”

“You and Draco are leaning towards dangerous codependency, I think,” Severus said delicately, but when Harry opened his mouth to argue, Severus cut him off before he could say a word. “It is true that Draco needs support during his healing, but he also uses you as an excuse to avoid conversing with me. I can see that he is indeed trying now, and no longer completely locking himself away, but so too does he use you as a shield when he feels that he cannot handle the world. So, I think that a little separation would do you both a world of good.”

“I see your point, but do you really think Draco would go for it?” Harry asked uncertainly, while Severus moved a hand to Harry's hair, stroking the locks gently. To Harry's question, Severus chuckled, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“Well, there's only one way to find out...”

 

~*~

 

Draco was sitting by his bedroom window that morning, watching the weather flicker between cloudy and sunny, as though the sky couldn't quite make up its mind whether to rain or not. A novel by some muggle author called _Wilde_ rested across his knees, but Draco had yet to open the book and read it. He could hear the low but insistent thrum of voices coming from the other room, and Draco had the most curious feeling that Harry and Severus were talking about him— _again_.

He huffed a small sigh as he stared out at the woodlands, smiling to himself as a finch landed on his sill, and chirped once before fluttering off again.

_This place is so peaceful,_ Draco thought as he watched the dot of the finch on the horizon, _I never want to leave it._

At the same moment, he heard a soft, almost hesitant knock upon the door. Draco sighed and stood up, but could not help but smile when he saw Harry standing on the other side.

“Hey,” Harry said, “how are you feeling today?”

“ _Fine_ ,” Draco signed, “ _tired_.”

“Why's that?”

Draco shrugged.

“Well, erm...” Harry paused as he reached back to scratch at his neck, and Draco pursed his lips—Harry was always so painfully obvious when he was stalling.

“Talk,” Draco said, and Harry snorted at the irony.

“Bit rich, coming from you,” Harry countered, and a giggle slipped past Draco's lips before he could stop it. Harry grinned, and reached for Draco's hand. “Can I...er, come in?”

Draco nodded, and motioned towards the set of chairs by the window where he had been sitting mere moments before. Harry followed him, and they sat down across from each other. At first, Harry didn't speak, and it was only after Draco signed, “ _what's wrong?_ ” that Harry seemed to snap out of his reverie, and began to explain.

“Well...er, you see, the thing is, Hermione's been having a rough time lately, almost as rough as you, you can imagine, given that Ron was her boyfriend, and now all the Weasleys hate her,” Harry said, and Draco nodded his head. He could believe it.

“I was talking with Severus,” Harry continued, not quite looking at Draco as he spoke, “and he suggested that instead of writing to her, I go visit with her instead. Before I contact her, I just wanted to see if you'd feel comfortable with me going for an afternoon sometime soon? I'd come back, of course, but I wanted your blessing, instead of sneaking off when you were asleep like I did last time. If you get nervous, just talk to Severus, and he'll send me an owl straightaway to come home.”

Draco did not respond at once, but instead kept his head bowed while his brow creased thoughtfully.

Harry seemed to be trying to wait patiently for his answer, but lost his nerve as he quickly added, “it's okay if you don't want me to go. I'll just write her instead,” then once again fell silent, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he gazed nervously at Draco.

“ _No potion this time?_ ” Draco signed, and Harry paled.

“You...er, you knew about that?” Harry asked nervously, and Draco smiled faintly as he nodded. “God, Draco, I'm sorry. It was my idea, and Severus brewed the potion to make sure it wouldn't conflict with the residual drugs in your system, and we, well _I_ thought that it might be better, since you were still not speaking, and I needed to go to this hearing regardless whether I wanted to or not, and—”

Draco reached out to touch Harry's cheek, drawing him from his rushed, panicked explanation. His eyes were wide with guilt, and Draco smiled a little as he kissed Harry once, before he pulled back and resumed speaking.

“ _Granger needs you?_ ” Draco asked, his hands shaking a little as he moved them, “ _like I need you?_ ”

“In a way,” Harry agreed as he nodded, “she's my friend, and she's had a rough time of it. I _love_ you and Severus. So she needs me...but differently.”

Draco bowed his head as he thought it over. He chewed his lip, and compulsively reached for one of Harry's hands. Harry squeezed it immediately, and when Draco chanced a glance up, he saw that Harry was smiling faintly.

“Will...will try,” Draco said, and Harry's smile broadened at his use of real words, but when he tried to speak again, his nerve failed him, and he signed, “ _you'll come home if I need you?_ ”

“Absolutely,” Harry replied as he leant in to kiss Draco lightly, “I promise.”

“ _Then go,_ ” Draco signed, smiling faintly as he did so, “ _save the world_.”

Harry beamed, and drew Draco in for a warm hug, one which Draco was happy to return, while his stomach churned with uncertainty— _could_ he do it? He wondered, _could_ he survive without Harry for a few hours?

_Only one way to find out,_ Draco thought as he buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck, and tried not to think on it.

 

A fortnight later, well after Harry had finally sent his initial letter to Granger, Harry announced over dinner that he would be visiting with his friend the coming Saturday in two days' time.

“Ah, so Miss Granger was receptive to your letter, then?” Severus asked, while under the table Harry reached for Draco's hand and offered it a reassuring squeeze, as though he could sense Draco's nervousness at this piece of news.

“Looks like it,” Harry replied. “I did what you suggested, kept it short and simple, and her response was pretty much a quick _yes, please_ , with a few dates that would be good for her. It's a bit worrying, because usually her letters are these long, novella-type things.”

“Well you shall see her soon, and perhaps clear the air between you two,” Severus said distractedly as he went back to his slice of roast, while Draco's hand tensed in Harry's.

 

Later back in his room, Draco paced with his hands folded behind his back. Circulating thoughts of _I can do this_ and _I can't do this_ swirled around in his head while he tried to breathe normally, and not descend into a panic, but it did not seem to be working very well.

A knock sounded suddenly on his door, and Draco froze. He gazed at the plank of wood in fearful silence for a long moment before a voice called out from the other side, “Draco? It's Severus. May I come in?”

Draco hesitated for a moment longer, then after swallowing nervously, he stepped over to the door and pulled it open.

“I am sorry to disturb you,” Severus said, eyeing Draco uncertainly. “Would it be all right if I came in? I would like to speak to you—that is all.”

Draco bit his lip, wavering between uncertainty and longing for what they once had before he nodded and stepped aside to admit him. As Severus murmured his thanks and swept into the room, Draco felt his robes just barely brush his arm, and he shivered involuntarily.

_How is it possible that can I miss him and be scared of him at the same time?_ Draco wondered as he left his door open and reached for his deck of flashcards as surreptitiously as he could. Talking with Severus was still difficult, but if the older man noticed or was bothered by Draco going for his cards, he did not show it.

“I wished to check in on you after Harry's announcement at dinner,” Severus said, folding his hands behind his back as he spoke. “He did tell me that he was going to ask you prior to making plans with Miss Granger, but he told me nothing more, and I presume that you approved of him contacting her, given that he has done so.”

Uncertain what to say, Draco simply nodded his head.

“Draco, how are you feeling about this?” Severus asked, careful to keep his distance, but the way he lurched incrementally forward gave Draco the impression that Severus wanted to touch him. “This is the first time that Harry is leaving with you knowing about it in advance, and I am concerned for you—nothing more.”

Draco sifted through his card deck, and held out two cards to Severus, which read, _nervous_ , and _scared_. He nodded.

“I thought as much,” Severus replied. “Did you say _yes_ to Harry just to please him? Draco, I assure you, he would not be cross if you asked him not to go. He cares for you very much, and he understands that your mental state is quite...unstable.”

“ _Think you mean broken_ ,” Draco signed before he could stop himself, and Severus frowned at him.

“You are _not_ broken, Draco,” Severus said firmly, and Draco covered his mouth to stifle a hysterical giggle. “Are you hearing me? You are _not._ You are a strong young man who has endured terrible things, and come out the other side of it. You are recovering, slowly, but you are _indeed_ recovering.”

Severus paused, and he reached out to Draco, his shoulders slumping when Draco took a small step back.

“ _Sorry,_ ” Draco signed hastily, and Severus shook his head.

“Do not apologize. I was too hasty. I miss what we had, Draco.”

Draco turned bodily away from Severus, but kept him in his peripheral vision. He felt his eyes burn, but despite his need to hide it, the soft whimper that slipped past his lips gave him away before the tears fell, and suddenly he was enveloped in warmth.

Sandalwood, pickling brine, and roasting spices from dinner filled Draco's nose. His mind was a confusion of panic at this unfamiliar closeness, and a relief as the last barrier between them finally began to crack. He turned in Severus's arms, his arms bent like the wings of a bird as he pressed them to the older man's chest as he held Draco close in a gentle embrace.

“Shh, my beautiful boy,” Severus whispered, “I want nothing from you, except your trust. I care for you just as Harry does, and would not push you towards anything you do not feel ready for...not again.”

Draco whimpered again as he buried his face in the shoulder of Severus's robes. Severus ran his hand up and down Draco's back, not speaking, but consoling him nonetheless, and Draco was so many things in that moment—scared, relieved, confused—

But ultimately, comforted.

 

 


	24. Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update scheduled for May 27th.
> 
> **Trigger Warning: This chapter contains references to verbal harassment and implied self-harm.**

Chapter Twenty-Four – Apart

 

Harry had expected to feel somewhat left out when Draco would begin to let Severus in again, but amazingly, he felt no jealousy whatsoever.

In fact, Harry felt a sense of pride at Draco steady recovery, and the way he would nestle against Severus's side, one hand outstretched for Harry, their fingers intertwined, while he read peacefully over the older man's shoulder in the evenings. It warmed Harry's heart to see, but no matter how steady his progress, Harry found that it always seemed that Draco's mountain of recovery never got any smaller.

 

“I keep hoping that Draco will feel comfortable enough soon to join us in bed,” Harry said to Severus the night before he was due to see Hermione, his gaze fixed on the older man while his fingers twined through Severus's long hair. His gaze flicked frequently from Severus's face to his bare chest, which was still a little shiny with sweat from their enthusiastic shagging not fifteen minutes earlier. “I don't mean in a sexual way, just...a comfort way.”

“It will come,” Severus reassured him with gentle confidence as he moved to close the distance between them, and kissed Harry's lips lightly. “He is improving in leaps and bounds, far more quickly than I had anticipated. In time, he will come to us. We just need to remember to not push him too fast, or he may panic. He is nervous about tomorrow, I know that, and I expect that after you leave, he will become quite needy.”

“Should I not go, then?” Harry asked uncertainly, “maybe...I dunno, postpone it?”

“No,” Severus said firmly, “you and Draco should spend a little time apart in an effort to break his budding codependency on you, and Miss Granger _needs_ you. You need to go, Harry.”

“I know,” Harry replied with a small smile. “I just...can't help worrying.”

“Not one of your finer qualities,” Severus teased lightly, making Harry chuckle, “but it is endearing all the same.”

 

The following afternoon, Harry kissed both Severus and Draco goodbye, and stepped outside to Apparate. Hermione had given him an address in advance, but it was one that he didn't recognize, and was for a small bungalow in a village called Slaithwaite— _far_ from her memories of Ron and her parents, Harry noted.

When Harry arrived, it was to something like a cobblestone houses with two front doors. On the left side it was clearly a muggle inhabitant, but on the right, even at a distance, Harry could feel the strength of the warding magic that surrounded the place, and he felt his heart ache a little for how scared Hermione must be that she felt the need to put so much magic to work in order to make herself feel safe.

Harry moved towards the house, and felt himself press into what felt like an invisible brick wall. Harry could not penetrate his friend's warding at all, and for a moment he was uncertain how he might alert Hermione to the fact that he was there when he saw the dark green door suddenly crack open, and the powerful wards dimmed just enough to let him in—but barely.

He made his way up the walkway at a leisurely pace, and though he felt his concern for Hermione beginning to mount, he projected what he hoped was a calm visage, in the event that Hermione somehow mistook Harry's unease for anger at her.

_Wait, what am I doing?_ Harry wondered as he faltered for a moment before he hastened forward once more. _I'm treating her like I do Draco...is that right? Is that wrong? I'm not sure anymore. I know she needs help, but am I making it worse by acting like she's a victim?_

Harry pushed aside his concerned thoughts as Hermione peeked out from behind the door, and he once again felt the need to swallow his shock behind a neutral mask. By and large, Hermione looked the same as she had at the trial, but now there were deep, bruise-like shadows under her eyes. She was pale, as though she had not gone outside in months, and even at a distance Harry could see that she was visibly trembling.

“Hey, it's me,” Harry said as he got closer, but stopped a few feet from her, just in case. “It's me, your friend, Harry Potter. We're friends, you know? I can prove that I'm not R—erm, that I'm not anyone bad. Like...when the Triwizard Tournament was happening in fourth year, and you were being ogled by Viktor Krum in the Library, and you got extremely cross that he was interrupting your studies with his giggling fans, and you called the Wronski Feint a _Wonky Faint_.”

A small, quivering smile spread across Hermione's lips, and she opened the door a little farther, but did not yet speak. Harry slipped inside to a drab front hall with almost no decoration, and as she shut the door and turned to him, he held out his arms with what he hoped was a warm smile upon his face.

“Do I get a hug?” he asked uncertainly, “you can say no if you want to, I won't be cross.”

The silence from her was oddly familiar and completely alien at the same time. Hermione smiled at him weakly, and moved in for a light hug. Compared to the old, bone-crushing ones that he used to get from her it was somewhat unnerving, but for the moment, he chose to not push it as he pulled back and offered her a warm smile.

“I missed you, Hermione,” Harry said earnestly. “Still friends?”

Hermione's smile quivered as she brought a hand to her eyes, wiping the tears that collected there as she turned to head down the hall. With a warm chuckle, Harry followed her deeper into the little house, only to be confronted by something he hadn't quite expected—a bark.

“Who's this?” Harry asked as they moved into the sitting room, and the black labrador barked again as his tail wagged excitedly, and he rushed over to sniff at Harry, while he noted that Crookshanks seemed to have taken refuge on top of Hermione's bookcase, and look to be in an extremely bad mood.

“Dobby,” she said with a weak smile. “I named him after...well, you know.”

“He's very cute,” Harry offered as he scratched the big black dog behind the ears, and laughed when Dobby licked his face enthusiastically. “But...you never struck me as much of a dog person.”

“I was...” Hermione trailed off and sighed. “He makes me feel safe. I've...it's just in case. His owner didn't have space for him, so I adopted him two months ago. He's very well-behaved, though Crookshanks doesn't like him much.”

“I can't imagine why,” Harry teased, and Hermione smiled weakly.

“I made tea,” she said suddenly, and motioned towards the table. There, Harry saw a platter of a teapot and two cups, along with a plate of sandwiches. Even at a distance, he could see the faint, iridescent hue of a strong Shield Charm around the table, keeping the dog from wolfing it all down. “Would you like to sit?”

“Okay,” Harry agreed, and got up to follow Hermione over to her shabby sofa where they both sat down while Hermione lifted the Shield Charm, and Dobby wandered over to a tartan blanket in the corner and lay down.

“He really _is_ well-behaved,” Harry remarked, “I'm impressed.”

“I've had plenty of time to train him,” Hermione said, not looking at Harry as she spoke, and he frowned when he saw her hands shaking mildly. “It's been...quiet, save for the letters.”

“Letters?” Harry asked, and she nodded.

“I—I burn them, I won't open them anymore if I know they're from _them_ , but...” she trailed off as a fresh wave of tears dripped down her cheeks, and quickly set down the teapot when her hands began to shake harder. “I can still hear them...in my head, I mean. They all blame _me_ for pushing R-Ron to what he did to Draco. They won't even _entertain_ the idea that it was their son and brother at fault.”

“Draco hasn't gotten any letters at all,” Harry said awkwardly, “I think it's because of his exile, but...what do these letters say?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Sorry,” Harry said quickly. “We don't have to. But...they can't hurt you anymore. Ron's in prison, he's not going anywhere, and you told me a while back that Molly got that Restraining Order...”

“I had to put out No-Contact Orders—that's what they called them at the Magical Law Enforcement Office—on all of them,” Hermione said weakly, “even G-Ginny. She...I thought at least _she_ wouldn't buy into Ron's bollocks, but...it was mostly Molly and Arthur. Both of them were threatened with jail time if they kept it up after I reported them, and that's when the angry letters from Bill, Charlie, Percy, and all the others started coming in.”

“God, Hermione...” Harry murmured as he reached for her, but when she flinched he quickly backed off. He conjured a handkerchief and laid it between them, which she seemed to appreciate as she accepted it. “I wish you'd told me. No one deserves to go through that, especially not you. You're so strong, and they tried to take that away from you.”

“Tried?” she asked weakly as she blew her nose. “They _did_ , Harry. I haven't left my house in months, I constructed the magical equivalent of a brick wall around my house, I moved to another city, I got a dog for protection...they _did_ take it away from me.”

“No, they didn't,” Harry said firmly. “Hermione, look at yourself. You're still holding it together, and they're all falling apart. They _know_ that Ron was in the wrong, and they _know_ that he's a sick, abusive pile of dung, but they won't admit it. _They_ are the ones who are in the wrong here, _not you_.”

“Did you tell the same speech to Draco?” Hermione asked between soft hiccoughs, and Harry smiled at her humorlessly.

“No, he needed an entirely different speech,” Harry replied dryly, and she smiled weakly.

“Is he okay?” she asked, finally calming down enough to pour the tea, though her hands still shook a little. As she did so, Harry saw the sleeves of her robes slip up her forearms, and he spotted a handful of new scars a few inches below her inner wrist that did not look accidental. They made him feel sick and cold, but his Auror's Intuition told him to address it another day—Hermione had enough going on without him interrogating her.

“He's finally talking again after nearly six months,” Harry replied with a small smile, “in small spurts, though. He usually can't say more than one or two words before he panics and goes quiet again, but he's using sign language to communicate with Severus and me. The communication with Severus is new, and I think that it means he's really starting to recover, and it's not just me being hoping that he is.”

“I see,” Hermione said, and mirrored Harry's weak smile. “And...I mean...are you with Severus? Or...or Draco...or did you...?”

She trailed off, and Harry smiled at her knowingly. She nodded in understanding, and seemed to relax a little, though it was clear that she was still nervous.

“I see,” she said. “And no jealousy or anything?”

“Strangely, no,” Harry replied. “I mean, Draco's still recovering from everything so it feels less like three together, and more like...I'm dating two people at once, and they both know about it. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Hermione said. “Will you tell me about it? I don't want to talk about _me_ anymore.”

“Yeah,” Harry answered, and offered her another small smile. “Sure.”

 

~*~

 

Draco squirmed in his seat upon the sofa. Severus was in the kitchen preparing lunch, and Draco was supposed to be reading to pass the time, but he couldn't quite focus, and the words upon the page had long since blurred into nonsense.

_What is Harry doing?_ Draco wondered as he sat there and stared at his book, _is he having a good time with his friend? Will he come back? Will Granger convince him that I'm not worth it, and make him disappear?_

The last thought made Draco feel positively sick, and with a shuddering gasp, he brought his hands to his face, and whimpered. The book toppled from his lap and clattered to the floor, and in an instant, Severus was there.

“Shh, my Draco,” Severus murmured as he drew him close, and Draco whimpered again as he buried his face into his chest. A hand went to Draco's hair, and Severus stroked it gently while he rocked him and murmured, “I know that you miss our Harry, but he will be back soon. Miss Granger has had as difficult a time as you, and she needs her friend. Harry has not abandoned us, and will be home in time for dinner. He loves us, and would not abandon us.”

“ _Scared_ ,” Draco signed as he shifted until he was more or less in Severus's lap, curled up close to the older man while he rocked Draco gently. Far from feeling infantilized by this, being held like this made Draco feel strangely comforted.

“I know that you are, Draco,” Severus murmured, “and it is not a sin to feel fear and uncertainty. I know that you find it difficult to believe, but Harry _will_ come back. He loves you.”

Draco looked up at Severus, his eyes moving but his head remaining stationary as Severus continued to stroke his hair gently. His expression was calm, and though he saw no smile on the older man's face, he still felt strangely comforted as he looked at him. One arm shifted to wrap around Draco's waist, while the other dropped to his back, and ran up and down his spine gently. Draco shivered a little, but did not protest the warmth and safety that he felt in the moment. He closed his eyes, and still the sense of calm remained while Severus chuckled and pressed a kiss to his temple.

 

Draco did not recall dozing off, or going to his room, but when he woke he was in his bed, and he could smell of something delicious cooking.

Draco sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes, just as Severus swept into the room with an apron on over his day robes.

“Good, you're awake,” he said, “lunch is ready, I made shepherd's pie. Are you hungry at all?”

“ _A little_ ,” Draco replied as he nodded. “ _Harry?_ ”

“He's not back yet,” Severus said, his tone of voice losing its edge somewhat, and approaching a consoling tone. “It is still early, and I imagine he will trundle in around suppertime or so.”

Draco lifted his hands to speak, but they fell into his lap at almost the same moment. He wanted to say how he missed Harry, and how it felt strange to be here without him, but at the same time he was reluctant to possibly hurt Severus by saying so. Being alone with him no longer scared Draco, although admittedly he never felt complete these days unless it was the three of them together.

Draco shook his head in an effort to clear his thoughts, and offered Severus a weak smile as he signed, “ _lunch?_ ”

 

Over shepherd's pie and tall glasses of strawberry lemonade, Severus brought up a topic that Draco had not been expecting, had had almost forgotten about—his mother.

“I suppose I should tell you,” Severus hedged, “and I do apologize if you feel I overstepped your bounds, but I tried to contact your mother recently in regards to possibly visiting you, now that you have improved so much...” Severus trailed off, and frowned.

“ _Not good news?_ ” Draco signed, and he felt his stomach drop a little as the older man nodded.

“I am afraid not,” Severus replied as he set down his fork across his half-finished lunch. “You needn't know the details, but suffice it to say, she still feels quite betrayed by your drug use, and in true Narcissa Malfoy fashion, has made it entirely about herself. She sent back a cardboard box of your things with a letter.”

“ _What did it say?_ ”

“I do not think you need to know, it was quite cruel, and I think in your current state—”

Severus broke off abruptly when Draco glared at him, and signed furiously, “ _tell_.”

“Draco, I don't—”

“ _Tell_ ,” Draco repeated, his hands shaking a little as he formed the word, and the older man fell silent. He stared at Draco, his gaze calculating, when at last he heaved a small sigh of defeat, and lowered his gaze.

“She has unofficially disowned you,” he said. “She proclaimed that she had no son, and demanded I not contact her again, because she needs to focus on caring for Lucius.”

Draco set down his fork slowly and carefully next to his plate. Such news, given his recent past, he would have assumed that he would dissolve into a panic attack of some sort. Instead, he felt something odd.

He was calm.

Beyond that, he felt _nothing_.

His emotions were an empty void, and that void was absorbing this news of his mother's vehement rejection of him like it had never existed in the first place. Draco shivered a little, and ran his hands up and down his arms, but otherwise did not move as he tried to process what he'd been told.

“ _I don't understand_ ,” Draco signed at last, glancing up to Severus. “ _Why is she doing this?_ ”

“I have no certain answer to that, Draco,” Severus replied, “but if I were to guess...I would posit that she is feeling overwhelmed, and her mind cannot handle so much tragedy all at once. She has never had your strength, and for her, it is easier to disown you than to try and accept your problems and help you with them.”

“ _Mothers are supposed to help_ ,” Draco signed shakily as the vision of Severus began to bend, tears filling Draco's eyes as at last his anxiety began to reassert itself, and Draco felt sick. “ _Mothers aren't supposed to do these things._ ”

“No, they're not,” Severus agreed. “I wish I could tell you better news, Draco, but I do not wish to fill your head with _maybe_ s and _what if_ s. Once you feel more like yourself, perhaps you can pay her a visit, and show her that you are better. I do not know if that will help, or make things worse, but it is worth a try.”

“ _Not hungry anymore,_ ” Draco signed abruptly, and with the rough clatter of his chair being pushed back, he jumped to his feet and raced down the hall to his room, slamming the door behind him.

 

Draco fell into bed, burying his face in his pillow, and only then did he allow the tears to fall. He sniffled, trembling as he clutched the soft down, but he was wholly incapable of calming himself as he shuddered and wept in complete silence, his jaw locked open in a silent scream.

He was not alone for very long when he heard a soft tapping on his door, and he glanced up, eyes still wet, as he watched Severus let himself in, and strode over to Draco's bedside. He did not speak as he sat down, the old bed creaking a little under his weight while he pressed a hand to the centre of Draco's back, and ran it up and down his spine soothingly, and being overly cautious about avoiding more private areas, stopping more than six inches above Draco's coccyx, before running his hand back upwards. It was soothing, rather than upsetting, and Draco quickly found himself relaxing into the touch.

“I know there is nothing I can say that can make this better, Draco,” Severus said softly. “I do not know if indulging you and telling you was right, either. It is not that I think you are weak, Draco, you are strong—you are _so_ strong to endure all that you have, but sometimes the more merciful thing would be to tell you at a later time when you were more recovered. I am sorry that I had to be the one to tell you about your mother.”

Draco rolled over, his eyes still damp, and he gazed up at Severus through a mist of tears. “ _Do not blame. Thank you,_ ” he signed shakily, not quite able to find the energy to form full sentences, and the ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of Severus's mouth.

“May I lie with you a while?” Severus asked, “I will behave myself, but I wish to ensure that you are all right.”

Draco nodded. The idea of another body close to his was still an odd concept—except for Harry, that is—after everything that happened, but with Severus, like with Harry, he _trusted_ him. That, it seemed, made all the difference, and though this trust with the older man was still somewhat tenuous, in an odd way, him voicing the betrayal of his mother, rather than keeping it from him, though painful, somehow seemed to strengthen his trust in the older man, rather than weaken it.

Severus smiled at Draco's consent. It was far from what one might consider a broad smile, but on anyone else, Draco felt it would be the equivalent of a wide, toothy grin. Severus lay down as Draco rolled over to face him, and curled up against his chest. Severus kissed the top of his head lightly, his hand trailing up and down his back once more as Draco began to relax, utterly worn out by the emotionally trying afternoon.

“It's all right, my beautiful boy,” Severus murmured as Draco slowly dropped off to sleep for the second time that day. “Rest. I will protect you.”

 


	25. Restful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update scheduled for Saturday, June 2nd. After that, we'll be back to usual Sunday updates :)

Chapter Twenty-Five – Restful

 

When Harry made it home that evening, it was to a seemingly empty house. There was no fire in the grate, the main living area was silent and dark, and the only sign of life was the abandoned, half-finished plates of shepherd's pie upon the table.

Heart jumping into his throat, Harry took a slow breath in an effort to remain calm as he drew his wand, and stepped farther inside.

Harry moved from the front entrance to the hall, and starting with the master bedroom, Harry slowly opened every door, his fear amplifying at the emptiness of the house, until at last he opened Draco's door, and he felt all of the air slip from his lungs as he spotted both Severus and Draco in the narrow bed.

Severus was awake, while Draco was curled up in his arms, face buried against his chest like a sleepy kitten. Severus was stroking his hair lightly, and appeared more happy and content than Harry could ever recall seeing him before. When Harry had opened the door, Severus had not moved, though he did lift his gaze to Harry, silently, but clearly telling him to not make a sound.

Pocketing his wand, Harry padded forwards silently until he reached the bed, and leant in to kiss Severus lightly.

Severus moved one hand to the back of Harry's neck, drawing out the kiss, before he pulled back reluctantly and flicked his own wand, carefully expanding the size of the bed before he patted the empty space on Draco's opposite side, inviting Harry to join them.

Beaming, Harry kicked off his shoes before he carefully climbed into the bed, spooning against Draco's back while he reached across his sleeping form for Severus, who took his hand without question.

“ _How long has he been asleep?_ ” Harry signed, his hand motions somewhat awkward and slow, but after months of watching Draco do it, Harry was somewhat surprised at how easily the language came to him.

“ _A few hours_ ,” Severus replied in the same fashion. “ _He became quite distressed around lunchtime, and has been sleeping since then._ ”

“ _Is it his depression making him this tired?_ ”

“ _Probably_ ,” Severus said, “ _depression is exhausting work, and Draco has been through a lot._ ”

“ _You told him about his mum, then?_ ”

“ _I don't like the idea of keeping secrets from him._ ”

Harry moved to respond when Draco shifted suddenly, less like he was rolling over in his sleep, and more like he was beginning to wake up.

Having suspected that he might be startled by his presence, Harry pulled his arms back from Severus so that Draco would not feel trapped, though he still jumped when he felt someone at his back, and his head whipped around so fast that Harry distinctly heard his neck crack.

“Hey, it's all right, it's only me,” Harry said as he rested a hand on Draco's side, and Draco immediately relaxed upon seeing Harry. “Sorry that I scared you...are you all right?”

“ _Sorry_ ,” Draco signed quickly, and Harry offered him a small smile as he moved to wrap one of his arms around Draco in an awkward hug.

“No need to apologize,” Harry said. “You did nothing wrong.”

Draco immediately relaxed when he saw that Harry wasn't upset, and he smiled faintly as he rolled onto his back, and reached for both Severus and Harry's hands. Harry's smile widened as he watched Severus immediately perk up a little from Draco's attention to him, and Harry leant in to offer each man a kiss before he relaxed next to Draco again.

“This is nice,” Harry said as he bowed his head to nuzzle at Draco's neck, and a faint giggle escaped him as he lifted his shoulders to try and halfheartedly stave Harry off. “I like being in...I like spending time with both of you.”

“I believe the feeling is mutual, Harry,” Severus said, smirking a little as he pulled Draco's hand in to kiss the back of it lightly, then leant over Draco to offer Harry another kiss. “But I should probably get dinner started, now that you're back. I imagine after your afternoon, you could use a little food and creature comforts.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely,” Harry replied with a smile as he reached for Severus's free hand and offered it a light squeeze. “Something simple, then come back here, yeah?”

“ _Or_ you two could come to the table and eat like a pair of normal, civilized human beings,” Severus countered, and Harry laughed.

“We _could_ , but where is the fun in that?” Harry asked, dropping an arm across Draco's waist while Severus rolled his eyes and walked away, which made Draco giggle again.

Once they were alone, Draco rolled over and shuffled close to Harry, planting a warm, firm kiss upon his lips before he whispered, “good trip?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, smiling brightly at Draco's use of words instead of sign. “I mean...it wasn't _fun-_ fun...Hermione has a lot of healing to do from the shit Ron put her through, but...she's coping, I think. I promised to write her when I got back, and we made plans to see each other next week.” Harry paused, regarding Draco thoughtfully for a moment before he asked, “how did you do with me being away and all? I mean...you seem a little...down.”

Draco's mouth twisted into a grimace, and for a moment he didn't answer. Harry reached out to touch his cheek, gently coaxing Draco's gaze back up to him, but the expression did not warm at all.

“Draco?” Harry prompted gently, regardless of the fact that he already knew the answer—it felt better to have Draco tell him, rather than blatantly say _I know_. “Did...did something happen?”

Draco hesitated a moment longer, then with a small, defeated sigh, he signed, “ _Severus told me about my mother._ ”

“Oh,” Harry replied, and winced at how insincere he sounded. He knew about the letter, of course, but he wasn't certain just how much Severus actually told Draco—there was a lot she disapproved of on that single sheet of paper. “I'm sorry. I wish I'd been there for you for that.”

“ _Granger needed you_ ,” Draco replied as he glanced away from Harry, though he did not miss how his silent companion's hands had begun to shake slightly. “ _You didn't know that Severus was going to tell me what my mother said. I suppose it's a natural reaction that she would disown me for my drug use, but I had hoped that she would be more supportive..._ ”

_Ah,_ Harry thought as he kept his face carefully blank, _so Severus didn't tell him everything._

“She'll get over it in time,” Harry offered as he rubbed Draco's back gently, though it did not seem to relax him like it normally would have. “Whenever you're ready, we'll work something out to tell her. And if she decides to keep her silence, well...it's her loss. _I_ know how amazing and wonderful you are, regardless what you did in the past—both in the wizarding and muggle worlds. You've paid your dues, and you're working to make yourself better. If your mum can't see that, well...”

“ _She was so good before,_ ” Draco signed, his eyes flooding with tears. “ _I don't understand why she is doing this._ ”

Harry didn't know what to say, and instead leant in to press a kiss to Draco's forehead, and then his lips. He had plenty of practice with familial rejection—thanks to the Dursleys—but Draco didn't. His mother loved him, this Harry knew, so why was she only now being so horrible to him? He didn't understand it any more than Draco did.

Draco shivered in Harry's arms, and shuffled forward until his cheek was resting against Harry's shoulder. Harry continued to rub his back as Draco's tears dampened Harry's shirt, allowing his silence and support to speak for him as they lay there.

 

Draco seemed to have wrung himself out by dinner, and over bowls of rabbit stew, both Harry and Severus eyed the blond uncertainly as he prodded at his food, rather than eat it.

“Draco, you need to eat,” Severus said as he laid a hand on his arm, and when he looked up, he cast a glare at the older man.

“ _What for?_ ” he signed sullenly, and Harry saw Severus's nostrils flare in obvious frustration.

“Because Narcissa's petty attitude is not worth throwing your health away,” Severus retorted icily. “She is being ridiculous, but she _will_ get over it. Doing this to yourself hurts not only you, but us as well. Do you think we _enjoy_ watching you suffer?”

“ _You don't know her like I do,_ ” Draco signed, his eyes narrowing into a glare before he crossed his arms and slouched back against his chair stubbornly.

“Draco,” Harry said, “Severus is right. Throwing your health away because of how your mum is acting isn't worth it. You need to eat, and we'll work out what to do about your mum, whether it's an angry letter, or a visit, or _something_. Just...don't be like this, please?”

Instead of answering with words or sign, Draco cast Harry a scandalized look before he stood up, turned, and stormed from the room. After a moment, he heard the distinct sound of Draco slamming his bedroom door shut.

“Well, he's certainly feeling better if he is comfortable enough to execute a dramatic exit in front of us,” Severus remarked, and Harry frowned at him.

“That's not funny, Severus.”

“I wasn't _trying_ to be funny,” Severus replied, his tone tense and sharp, as though he was just barely resisting the urge to snap at Harry. “The fact that he is arguing with us is infuriating—but _good._ It shows that he is recovering, and no longer just the empty shell that he was when we first brought him back from Weasley's torment of him.”

“And how is some weird food strike better than being a shell?” Harry demanded. “He's still not reacting in a way you would call _healthy_.”

“But he _is_ reacting,” Severus replied as he crossed his arms and frowned at Harry. “ _That_ is the difference, Harry. When he first came here after his ordeal, he was in a constant state of non-reaction—emotionally cut off and hidden inside himself. Now, he's reacting—showing us signs of life. He is emotionally engaged with the world around him instead of simply allowing life to happen _to_ him. Do you understand the difference between the two?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry replied as he cradled his chin in his hand and braced his elbow against the tabletop. “I just hate seeing him so upset—it's like...like...he can never rest, you know? If it's not one thing, it's another; he's always having bad stuff happen to him.”

“He did not deserve the hand he was dealt,” Severus agreed. “Admittedly, his attitude during your formative years warranted more of a karmic punishment than I was willing to give at the time, but this...he did not deserve this.”

“ _No one_ deserves this,” Harry added, “I just...I hate feeling so helpless. I wish I could just wave my wand and make him better.”

“Unfortunately, what Draco needs now is time, not magic,” Severus said with a soft sigh, his aloof outer exterior cracking as he turned and gazed towards the darkened hallway. Harry followed his gaze, but despite their quiet hoping, Draco did not appear.

 

~*~

 

Draco lay in his bed, the same one which had been occupied by both Severus and Harry barely a few hours before, but now was devoid of their company. Draco trailed his fingers over the soft linen, which still smelt faintly of both men, and he felt his heart ache for them.

_They don't understand,_ Draco thought miserably as he shut his eyes, _they don't know what it's like to have everything systematically ripped away like this._

_But don't they?_

Draco's eyes snapped back open at the invasive thought that filtered into his mind. He rolled onto his back, and stared up at the ceiling while he tried to think.

_I know that Harry lost a lot of loved ones,_ Draco thought, _but he didn't sell himself like I had to, or destroy his body with chemicals. Gods, sometimes I miss my powder...no, no, I can't think that. Think on your current problem._

_Can Harry even understand what it's like to know someone, to love someone, and have them abruptly shut you out? Is it my old self, that arrogant, judgmental prick thinking these thoughts, or is it truly me? And Severus...I know so little about him. Would_ he _understand, or would he give me the same blank look of confusion that Harry does?_

“I don't know anymore,” Draco whispered to himself as a single tear leaked from the corner of his eye, and disappeared into his hair.

 

_Draco was alone._

_It was dark; an impenetrable dark where Draco could not even see his own hand when he lifted it in front of his face._

“ _H-Hello?” he called out, his voice strong, instead of the low, uncertain rasp that it usually was. “Is anyone there? Severus? Harry?”_

_A faint silhouette materialized in the distance. Draco blinked hard, certain that he was seeing things, but the image did not change, nor did it even waver when a second one joined it._

_Draco felt his relief swell in his chest, recognizing both of them immediately, and Draco ran towards them. Despite the sounds of his heavy footfalls and laboured breathing, neither man turned around, and curiously, regardless how far Draco ran, Severus and Harry came no closer._

_What was happening?_

“ _Wait!” Draco called, but still neither man listened to him, and came no closer. “Please, won't you wait for me? I thought you loved me.”_

_They stopped._

“ _How could we love something as irrevocably broken as_ you _?” Severus asked snidely as he turned around._

“ _You're like a pretty toy,” Harry added in a similar nasty tone, “you're not made to be loved. You're to be played with and tossed aside.”_

“ _B-but...” Draco's breath caught as he tried to calm himself down, but it did not work like he'd hoped that it would. “You...you_ told _me that you loved me. Why are you doing this? How could you be so cruel?”_

“ _You're a toy, Draco,” Harry retorted. “A pretty toy. You think I'd keep a whiny thing like you around after I got with Severus? He's more of a man than you ever could be.”_

_Tears streaking his cheeks, Draco watched as Harry tugged Severus close and kissed him deeply, then, with twin smirks cast towards Draco, they turned away from him and faded into the dark._

 

Draco woke with a jolt.

Too disoriented to notice much as he tried to shake off the last remnants of the nightmare, the only thing he was acutely aware of was the fact that he was alone.

_Harry always comes to me when I've had a nightmare,_ Draco thought as he tried to catch his breath, _why isn't he here now?_

Draco curled forward on himself as he let out a soft whimper. At the same moment, he heard the distinct thrum of voices coming from the other room.

Curiosity piqued, Draco slipped from his bed on slightly wobbly legs and moved towards the wall that separated his room from Harry and Severus's, and pressed his ear to the wood to listen to their muffled conversation.

 

“ _How can you be so cruel?”_ Harry demanded angrily., _“you_ heard _the distress charm go off. Draco must've had a nightmare.”_

“ _In his current state that is not so shocking. I am not telling you to ignore his pain, Harry, I am telling you that he recently received some distressing news, and may want to be left alone. Us coming at him from all sides may worsen his mental state, not improve it—especially considering the fact that he had a very upsetting argument with us prior to this.”_

“ _I don't_ care _about that!”_ Harry retorted, _“every couple—or whatever we are—has arguments. That doesn't mean we leave him to suffer when he's clearly upset. I don't want him to be alone right now.”_

“ _But he might want to_ be _alone, Harry,”_ Severus countered. _“Regardless what you are feeling, regardless how difficult it may be, you_ must _respect his wishes. Ignoring them to fulfill your own need to be with him will not help Draco feel safe in the slightest. I know you are concerned for him—believe me, I am as well—but we mustn't barge in on him when he may still be angry with us.”_

“ _Then what, we wait and see if he comes to us?” Harry demanded, “what if he's too freaked out? What if he needs us, and he just can't say it?”_

“ _As much as it pains me to admit, then perhaps he must face his fears, and come to us, instead of us going to him. We will love him regardless, I am certain he has at least an_ inkling _of that at this point, and he will know that though we argued earlier, we would never reject him, but always accept him with open arms. We must wait and see.”_

“ _I hate this plan,”_ Harry groused. “ _I just want to run and make sure he's okay. I don't like this_ wait and see _idea...”_

“ _He knows he can always come to us,_ ” Severus said, his voice dropping in volume, and Draco had to strain to hear him. “ _He knows that we would never turn him away.”_

 

Draco stepped back from the wall, blinking rapidly, but regardless of his futile efforts, a single tear dripped down his cheek. He sniffed as he hastily wiped it away, and stared at the blank expanse of wall that separated him from Severus and Harry—the two people in the entire cosmos who had never abandoned him after knowing all of the shameful things he did, both to himself and to others.

“I need you both, always,” Draco whispered to himself. With his limbs trembling slightly, he turned to step out of the room, and headed towards the master bedroom where Severus and Harry were waiting for him.

 

The door—though the same as his own in size and shape—seemed strangely large and imposing, like the enormous oak doors that led to the Great Hall back at Hogwarts. As he stood there, his intimidation mounting, his thoughts began to run wild.

Would Severus and Harry misunderstand his need? Draco wondered; past interactions with both men suggested they would know that he was not ready for anything sexual, but would they try, regardless?

Would their bed somehow change the dynamics that had not been present when they momentarily shared his own bed with them earlier that day?

Would they ignore all the evidence to the contrary, and push him towards a sex act as payment for sharing a space that was theirs, and not just _his_?

The rushing torrent of anxiety-induced thoughts continued, and by the time Draco had made it to the door, he felt sick and dizzy with fright.

Draco lifted his fist to knock. Even in the dark, he could see it trembling.

_I can do this,_ Draco thought, _I can_ do _this...just remember what you heard Severus say..._

Draco's hand fell away from the door, and he buried his face in his hands. A soft sob slipped from him as his frustration at himself built up like a cascading wave, and at the same moment the door cracked open, and Draco trembled as he felt a pair of warm arms encircle him.

“It's okay,” Harry murmured into his ear, “I'm here— _we're_ here. Come lie down, yeah?”

Draco nodded a little, still blindly clinging to Harry as the brunet led him farther into the room, and he glanced up to see Severus shimmying into a pair of slate-grey pyjama bottoms. His face flushed a little at the sight, and his stomach churned uneasily, but the image of Severus dressing—at least partially—reassured Draco that he and Harry had no plans to try and coax anything from him—at least not tonight.

“Come lie down,” Harry repeated softly, and motioned towards the bed. “It's okay; neither of us want anything from you except to let you sleep, I swear.”

Bolstered by Harry's words, and a fluttering feeling in his chest at the fact that Harry seemed to have anticipated the root of his fear, Draco slowly climbed into the bed, and shuffled closer to Severus, who was lying down on the opposite side.

Immediately, Severus coiled an arm around Draco's waist and drew him closer, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, while Harry slid in on the opposite side, and mirrored Severus. He wrapped an arm around Draco's waist, just above where Severus's was situated, and kissed Draco's cheek. Then, Draco turned to each of them, and earned a gentle kiss upon the lips from both of his lovers.

“Rest now, Draco,” Severus said softly, “we will protect you.”

 


	26. Almost Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be June 10th. Enjoy :)

Chapter Twenty-Six – Almost Perfect

 

When Harry woke the next morning, for a moment, he thought that he might still be dreaming.

Harry was not curled in the centre of the bed with Severus as he had grown accustomed to, but he was closer to the edge and on his back. Next to him, a blond head was poking out from the tangle of blankets, and it was burrowed up against Severus's chest like a sleeping baby chick, though under the duvet, Harry could feel Draco's ankle crossed over his own. When Harry rolled over to spoon against him, Draco let out a tiny sigh of contentment, but did not wake.

Harry smiled to himself as he pressed his forehead against the back of Draco's shoulder, and tried to reign in his mounting giddiness. It felt so _good_ to wake up with both men like this, as though he had been missing part of himself, and was now made whole.

As Harry lay there, marvelling in the perfection of the moment, Draco shifted slightly next to him.

At first, Harry had thought that perhaps Draco was merely shifting in his sleep, but the whimpers and genuine tears that were leaking from his shut eyes told Harry that Draco's sleepy peace had quickly shifted to a nightmare. Immediately, Harry took action.

“Shh, shh, Draco,” Harry whispered as he wrapped a gentle arm around the blond's waist. “You're having a nightmare. Come back to us.”

“Be still, Draco,” Severus added, his arm coming to rest over Harry's just as gently, though the action still startled the Harry a little, as he had not noticed Severus wake up. “We will keep you safe.”

“ _Not safe, not safe, no..._ ” Draco whimpered, apparently still asleep, the tears collecting at his jaw before they trailed down his throat like a narrow, winding river.

“You're safe, Beautiful Boy,” Severus murmured.

“We will protect you,” Harry said, leaning in to kiss Draco's hair, and slowly, Draco relaxed again, returning to sleep.

Harry and Severus lay there, holding Draco in a tangle of protective arms, while they stared at each other over his head.

 

Harry did not recall falling back to sleep, but when he woke again it was almost noon, and Severus and Draco were missing from the bed.

 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Harry got up and threw on his dressing gown before he headed out into the main area of the cottage, stifling a cavernous yawn as he went, but stopped short when he heard a voice.

_Draco's_ voice, in particular.

Harry stopped in mid-step to listen—just to be sure.

“Jam,” Draco said. A pause followed, in which he heard Severus chuckle.

“I do believe that if you can say, _Jam,_ you can also add the word of request verbally as well, Draco.”

“Jam, _please_ ,” Draco said with a familiar, sarcastic drawl to his voice, and Harry grinned when the following silence was met with another chuckle.

“Yes, that _is_ much better,” Severus said, while Harry heard the soft _clink_ of glass upon the coffee table, indicating to him that Severus had given Draco his requested jam. “Although in truth I am finding your sarcasm much more thrilling than the actual words you are speaking.”

“Why?” Draco asked, and Severus chuckled again.

“Because for many months now you have been like a falcon whose wings have been clipped—fierce, beautiful, but weakened. Now, your feathers have regrown, and you are making ready to take flight again.”

“With you and Harry,” Draco said, his voice quivering a little, though this time Harry recognized the tone—Draco was getting tired of speaking, and wanted to revert back to sign.

“Always,” Severus agreed, and Harry beamed to himself as he tried to rearrange his face into something less excited, and moved to step out and join his lovers.

 

Draco was the first to turn around when Harry appeared in the entryway to the sitting room. He offered the brunet a shy little smile, which seemed to transform Draco's face to something warm and sweet, and it made Harry's heart flutter at the sight of it.

Harry was so momentarily dazzled by Draco's smile that he did not immediately notice the rest of the scene, and chuckled a bit as he asked, “pyjama party, is it?”

Draco glanced down at himself, while Severus smirked and shrugged. Along with Harry, both were still in their pyjamas and dressing gowns, though neither appeared very embarrassed by their state of dress.

“We both had plans to get dressed, but you slept so late that the idea seemed to come and go,” Severus said as he poured a cup of tea for Harry. “From there it became something of a Lazy Sunday...despite the fact that it is only Wednesday.”

“Severus made Breakfast for Tea,” Draco added, and though his voice shook badly this time, Harry smiled proudly at how well Draco was stringing his words together despite his clear unease.

“Sounds nice,” Harry said as he sat down next to Draco on the sofa, and moved in to kiss him. “Sounds almost as nice as you actually talking.”

“ _Trying,_ ” Draco signed as he flushed a faint pink. “ _Still hard._ ”

“Which makes it all the more commendable that you are trying so hard, Draco,” Severus said as he moved in to kiss his temple. “Things that are easy come naturally because they ask nothing of us. What you are doing—forcing yourself to heal when all your mind wishes to do is hide— _that_ is well and truly beyond demanding. The fact that you do not cower in the face of such a thing, but approach it head-on tells me one thing—”

Severus paused, and gently coaxed Draco's gaze back to him, his long fingers gently resting under his chin while he leant in to kiss the blond gently, and murmured, “you are already a better man than I ever was.”

Draco smiled weakly at Severus, his eyes watery, and he threw his arms around his neck in a tight hug. At first, Severus appeared startled by this sudden show of affection, but his expression quickly softened into something of a warm smile as he rubbed Draco's back and held him close.

Over his shoulder, Harry offered Severus a smile, and chuckled when the older man's cheeks tinted a faint pink, as though he did not know how to respond to so much warm affection being directed at him.

Harry ignored this, and with a soft chuckle, he reached for one of Severus's hands, and grasped it gently.

 

~*~

 

Draco could not recall the last time he had felt so close to perfect happiness, and as the day progressed, he was amazed by how little he was bothered by anything at all—provided he did not allow himself to think on his mother's latest betrayal for too long, which was remarkably easy when he had Harry and Severus to distract him.

Draco lay curled up on the sofa, his head in Harry's lap, while his companion stroked his hair idly. Harry's head was resting on Severus's shoulder, and Severus was reading some thick, dusty tome on dark curses in Middle English, but he would lift his hand every so often to touch Harry's cheek affectionately.

Though it was warm and peaceful inside, outside it was raining hard, and rain lashed harshly against the window panes, but far from unsettle him, he found the sound of the rain oddly peaceful.

“Want tea,” Draco said suddenly, and Harry let out a soft chuckle.

“Does that mean one of us has to get up?” Harry asked teasingly, and Draco shook his head.

“Can do it—want to,” Draco said, getting up slowly, but Harry caught his hand before he got very far, and pulled him back down for a kiss.

“Don't hesitate to come get one of us if you change your mind and decide you need help, okay?”

Draco nodded, his head a little foggy from the kiss, and asked, “Want?”

“You mean do I want a cuppa tea?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded. “I wouldn't mind one...Severus?”

“Only if he asks using a full sentence,” Severus replied without looking up.

“Be fair, he's talked a lot today,” Harry said, frowning at the older man. “Would it _kill_ you to be nice?”

“Possibly,” he said without pause, “I'm not willing to chance it.”

“ _W-would_ you tea?” Draco said, then flushed, and tried again. “Would you like some tea?”

“That would be lovely, thank you, Draco.”

“I'll help you,” Harry said as he rolled his eyes and stood up. “Three is a lot to carry.”

Harry took his hand, and together they headed out to the kitchen. As soon as they were out of Severus's line of sight, Harry stopped and dragged Draco into a tight hug that made the blond squeak in surprise.

“ _I'm sorry about Severus,_ ” Harry signed, likely so that Severus would not overhear. “ _He means well, but I know he can be a bit rude sometimes._ ”

“ _Words are hard,_ ” Draco replied with a weak smile. “ _I'm getting there, but sometimes I wish he wouldn't push so hard. I'm trying._ ”

“ _I know you are, and you're doing amazing,_ ” Harry said as they resumed their walk to the kitchen, and Draco flushed at the compliment. “ _Want me to talk to him about it?_ ”

“ _Not yet,_ ” Draco answered as he shook his head. “ _I'm not made of glass, I can take it—and I know that he means well._ ”

“It's just how he shows that he cares,” Harry whispered when they made it to the kitchen, likely, Draco assumed, to avoid being overheard, while he headed to the cupboard for the mugs, and Draco filled the kettle with water before he set it on the cooker. “He's not really used to being gentle...we'll have to teach him, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Draco agreed with a weak smile, and Harry beamed at his use of words.

Draco turned back to the cooker, smiling idly as he turned it on, and listened to the kettle hiss softly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Harry setting the mugs on the counter and plopped a teabag in each of them before he moved to stand at Draco's back, and pulled him into a backwards hug.

“I ran out of Draco,” Harry said teasingly as he nuzzled at the crook of Draco's neck. “I need to recharge.”

Draco turned in Harry's arms, a small, amused smirk twitching at the corners of his mouth while Harry offered him a silly grin, and Draco leant in to kiss him lightly.

“You are ridiculous,” Draco whispered, and Harry answered by kissing him in return.

“Still love me?” Harry joked, and Draco smiled, nodding as he moved in to kiss him again.

The pair were happy to stand at the cooker and snog while they waited for the water to boil, and when the kettle finally let out a whistle, indicating that it was ready, both Harry and Draco let out dual whines of frustration at the interruption.

Harry pulled away from Draco reluctantly and moved to place the milk and sugar on a tray, while Draco carefully poured the hot water into the waiting mugs. As he did so, his mind wandered back to the _very_ satisfying kisses he'd just shared with Harry, but far from it bringing a smile to his face, he felt a lump of nervousness begin to form in his throat.

_I like kissing Harry and Severus...but where is it leading?_ Draco wondered as he moved the mugs to the tray, and stepped over to the pantry for a box of biscuits. _Do they expect..._

Draco broke off the thought abruptly, and shook his head a little. Harry eyed him oddly, but relaxed after Draco offered him a small, reassuring smile.

Inside, however, Draco's thoughts were still a mess of nerves.

_What will happen if they try before I'm ready? Will they leave me? Where would I go? What should I do?_

Draco rotated his shoulders in an effort to quash his shiver of fear while he picked up the tray and followed Harry back into the sitting room, where Severus was still reading.

When they stepped inside, the older man glanced up, and offered the pair a ghost of a smile. Draco set down the tray, and all three men prepared their tea the way they liked it, before Severus paused, and reached across Harry to touch Draco's hand lightly.

“Draco,” he said, while Draco eyed him apprehensively and sipped his tea, though it did not calm him as much as he would have liked, “we need to talk, and I hope that this is the last piece of bad news that Harry and I need to deliver unto you.”

“ _What is it?_ ” Draco signed, not quite able to manage words at the moment, but this time Severus did not press him to speak, and instead exchanged a significant look with Harry, who sagged a little and nodded.

“It's about your mother,” Severus continued as he stirred sugar into his tea, then took a small sip before he continued. “I am afraid that in an effort to soften the blow of your mother's betrayal, we did not tell you the whole truth as to why she no longer wishes to see you.”

To Draco, this made sense.

He hated that it did, however.

_Mothers are supposed to love you no matter what,_ Draco thought, but he couldn't quite bring himself to say the words aloud, or sign them. _I wish I could ask,_ why? _But I feel like I know what probably happened..._

“It looks like your mum got wind of your...er, _profession_ ,” Harry said delicately. “We're not completely sure who told her, if it was Ron, or Seamus, or another of the Weasleys, but we know she found out, and she was sort of...”

Harry trailed off, and Draco winced.

“ _That bad?_ ” he signed, and Severus inclined his head slightly.

“I believe it would be safe to assume that she would not appreciate contact for some time, Draco,” Severus said. “She loves you, she always will, but at the moment she is hurt, and she has always had a tendency to lash out first, and consider all the angles later. There is every chance that in a few weeks, she would be willing to see you again.”

“ _Or months_ ,” Draco said with a small frown, “ _she is very good at holding grudges._ ”

“Or months,” Severus agreed with a solemn nod.

Draco slumped back against the sofa with a heavy sigh, and sipped his tea while he stared into the glowing coals of the fire in the grate. He could feel both Harry and Severus watching him apprehensively, but he did not bother to reassure them that he was fine, and instead sipped his tea thoughtfully.

“You...er...are you okay, Draco?” Harry asked awkwardly, and rested a hand against the top of Draco's thigh.

Draco jumped at the sudden intimate touch, and hissed as he sloshed the scalding tea over the back of his hand.

“Oh, fuck,” Harry said as his eyes widened and he took the mug from Draco, then cradled the blond's reddening hand in his own. “Draco, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you...”

Harry pulled out his wand and nudged the burn, healing it in an instant. In contrast to Harry's almost palpable panic, Severus was oddly calm, observing the scene before him with barely any reaction, and sipped his tea thoughtfully as he stared at Draco.

“Draco,” Severus said, while Harry continued to fuss over him, “what is it that startled you? The touch because it surprised you, or the touch because of _where_ you were touched?”

Draco blinked, while Harry seemed to balk at the implication, but did not voice any sort of protest as he turned his gaze to Draco, and stared at him as he, too, awaited an answer.

Draco shrunk back against the sofa, unnerved by both Harry and Severus's staring. Though Harry seemed to sense this and mumbled an apology as he looked away, Severus offered him no such courtesy, and continued to watch him as he waited for an answer.

“ _Where,_ ” Draco signed at last, gazing down shamefully at his lap as he did so.

“I see,” Severus said, while Harry began to speak, likely to voice another apology, but Severus hushed him before he got very far. “In that case, I think it is time to discuss this relationship of ours.”

“Discuss?” Harry echoed, “what d'you mean?”

“It is fairly common in triad relationships to set some ground rules to avoid things like infidelity or jealousy,” Severus explained as Draco chanced a glance back up, but Severus's face was carefully blank. “In this case, considering Draco's recent history, I think it is even more prudent that we discuss things, and discover exactly what sort of contact makes you uncomfortable, in particular so that neither of us does it again.”

“ _Don't want to talk_ ,” Draco signed as he began to hyperventilate, his eyes wide with panic, and this time, Severus offered him a small, sad sort of smile.

“I know that you do not wish to discuss anything that might come back to what happened to you, Draco,” Severus said gently, “but we need to—if nothing else, to make sure that we do not hurt you in the future.”

“He's right,” Harry added as he reached out tentatively, and took Draco's hand. “I know it's not fun, but we never want to hurt you, or make you feel like you're being forced into anything...” Harry trailed off, and turned to Severus. “Right?”

“That is correct,” Severus replied as he reached over Harry, and took Draco's other hand. “I know it may feel like we are forcing you to discuss things that you do not wish to recall, Draco, but our goal is not to make you relive those traumatic memories, only to know what sort of touch is upsetting for you, so that going forward, it will not happen again.”

“Exactly,” Harry said as he offered Draco another smile. “I know it probably feels like we're ganging up on you to make you discuss that... _stuff..._ but Severus is right, it's for the best.”

_For the best_ , Draco thought sourly as he nodded a little in understanding, _why do things done_ for the best _or_ for my own good _always hurt?_

“ _I will think about it_ ,” Draco signed after he'd pulled away from Harry and Severus, and both men offered him warm looks of approval in their own ways—Harry beamed at him, while Severus offered him a curt nod. Both expressions did not exactly cheer him, and he hoped that they would actually allow him to think on it before they pushed him to _discuss_ everything.

It was still the last thing he wanted to do.

 


	27. Denouement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update scheduled for June 17th. Enjoy :)

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Denouement

 

“Harry, we _need_ to have that talk with Draco soon,” Severus said.

“Damn, I'm out of pants again,” Harry said at the same time, and Severus scowled.

“Harry, are you listening to me?” Severus demanded, and Harry glanced up to him at last, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“No,” he replied, and offered Severus a grin as he glowered at him, then seemed to give up as he rolled his eyes, and they both went back to dressing. Severus played the silent treatment all through the few minutes they were alone together, but when Severus turned in a flurry of robes to storm off, Harry caught his hand and stopped him short.

“Hey, I'm sorry, all right? I've just got a lot on my mind.”

“Beyond our resident third party, you mean?” Severus asked dryly, and Harry frowned at him.

“I have a _lot_ on my mind,” he repeated firmly. “Hermione, and my recent unemployment, and Narcissa being a total cunt to her _only_ bloody son, and the Weasleys becoming possessed...”

“Possessed?”

“Only reason I can come up with to why they've been so nasty and vindictive lately,” Harry replied with a slight shrug, “plus...I've been thinking...about maybe moving in here?”

“You already _live_ here, Harry, in case you haven't noticed.”

“Well, _yeah..._ but, pants,” Harry said, waggling his last fresh pair in Severus's face to clarify his point, which made the older man's lip curl with disgust at the vulgar gesture. “I keep having to run back to my flat for more things, so I was thinking...why not just bring _all_ my stuff here? I just wasn't sure how you would feel about me bringing my pets here as well.”

“You have an owl and snake, correct?” Severus asked with an arched brow, and Harry nodded. “I don't see any reason why you can't bring them. Your owl can stay with mine outside, and the snake can wander outside int he gardens as he pleases.”

“He will literally die if I leave him outside,” Harry replied, “he's used to heat and humidity.”

“The greenhouse?”

“Okay, that works...” Harry paused, and goggled at Severus. “Hang on, what greenhouse?”

“Remember that shed in the back garden that I told you to never ever to enter?”

“You mean the one you told me not to go in because it's full of dangerous potions ingredients?” Harry asked, and Severus nodded.

“Yes,” Severus replied, “it's a greenhouse with a glamour on it.”

“And _why_ would you tell me it's a shed?”

“I thought that would be obvious,” Severus replied as he arched an eyebrow at Harry, and the younger man rolled his eyes.

“I would _not_ have killed your precious plants, Severus,” Harry said with an annoyed huff. “Just how inept do you think I am?”

“You probably don't want me to answer that.”

Harry scowled but nodded his head anyway as he said, “that'll be fine for him. Although I have to wonder if you don't trust _me_ to enter your beloved greenhouse, why would you let my _snake_ in there?”

“Because it would keep any rodents in check, and I needn't worry about it spying on us when we become intimate,” Severus replied smoothly, while Harry pursed his lips at the older man. He scowled and asked, “what is it this time?”

“It's just...it sounds like you put a lot of thought into this, and I'm not really sure how to take it.”

Harry's explanation was met with a warm chuckle as Severus closed the distance between them, and he kissed Harry tenderly.

“Of course I have, Harry,” Severus purred between kisses. “Why else would I carry a consistent stock of treacle tarts in the pantry, or make space in the bathroom for your things, or—heaven forbid— _move_ my own clothing in order to make space in the wardrobe for yours?”

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Severus continued before he had a chance to.

“Because I _want_ you here, Harry,” he murmured, his voice soft but sure, and Harry felt his heart swell in his chest at the admission. He leant in to kiss him, and let out a little giggle as he felt another body suddenly press against his back, and a pair of lips brushed against the nape of his neck while Severus kissed him again.

“ _Both_ want you here,” Draco murmured against his skin, and Harry smiled inwardly as he was sandwiched between his two lovers.

 

“So,” Harry said over breakfast, while doing his best to _not_ act overly excited, but he couldn't help bouncing in his chair a few times, and Severus appeared caught between amusement and the desire to roll his eyes at him. “I have to go to my flat today and get the rest of my things...Draco, would you feel up to coming with me? Doing a little lifting and carrying?”

Draco smirked a little as he lifted his arm and flexed it, showing a minuscule bulge of muscle. Harry snorted, and nodded his head.

“Only light things,” Harry said, “nothing that will hurt your dainty little hands.”

“ _Refined_ ,” Draco said with a distinctly familiar sneer in his voice, “not _dainty_.”

Harry snorted into his tea, while Severus smirked a little at Draco's response. Despite the blond's clear annoyance, he smiled a little at his two companions warmly, as though he did not overly mind the _dainty_ remark.

 

After breakfast, Harry and Draco took the Floo to Harry's old flat, which seemed to greatly cheer Draco—likely due to the fact that it was the first time he'd used something magical in years. He appeared to be trying to hide his smile from Harry as he looked around the little flat curiously, his eyes a little wide as he took it all in.

Harry chuckled as he watched him, and moved over to slip an arm around his waist as he asked, “what d'you think?”

“Small,” Draco said with a faint, wry smile. “But nice.”

“Oh, yeah, because home is _so_ huge,” Harry teased, and Draco smiled again, but did not redact his _small_ remark, either.

Chuckling, Harry pulled Draco in for a kiss before he said, “come on, there isn't much stuff to get together, so this shouldn't take too long.”

 

~*~

 

It felt slightly odd to be out of the safety of the cottage, but most surprisingly, nowhere near as terror-inducing as it _should_ have been.

As Draco helped Harry box up his pitifully small collection of books, clothes, and other items, Draco cast a glance over to his companion repeatedly, a ghost of a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth as he did so.

_Is Harry the only reason I'm not panicking over this?_ Draco wondered idly, _is it only because of him that I can do this at all?_

Draco lifted up a folded jumper, and started a little when Harry's hand touched his wrist, stopping him from putting the garment in the box he was filling.

“Sorry,” Harry said with a small, apologetic smile. “I didn't mean to scare you, but that goes in the rubbish pile. I must've missed it in my initial wardrobe purge.”

Draco nodded and tossed the knitted garment aside, eyeing it curiously as he did so, though he hadn't yet worked out why Harry was throwing away so many jumpers.

_Perhaps it's a mystery for another day,_ Draco mused as he continued to box up the other items, brimming with happiness at the way Harry sat at his side on the floor, their knees just barely touching, while Harry, too, boxed up his items manually instead of doing so by magic. It felt oddly nice to do the packing up chores together, instead of rushing through them with a charm or two.

“I hope you don't mind me not using magic for this,” Harry said abruptly as he added a stack of quidditch magazines to his own box, “but I kind of like doing chores by hand...plus, I get to have you all to myself for a little while.”

“Read my mind,” Draco mumbled, his face flushing as he spoke, and Harry chuckled as he paused what he was doing, leant to the side, and kissed the corner of Draco's lips lightly.

“Well, I _am_ a superb Occlumens,” Harry purred, and Draco snorted derisively.

“No you're not,” he retorted, and Harry grinned at him.

“No, I'm not, I'm still pants at it, but you're easy to read...in a good way.”

“How?” Draco asked curiously, turning towards Harry a little as he spoke, and the brunet chuckled as he lifted a hand and touched Draco's temple, tracing the space around his eyes gently before he answered verbally.

“Your eyes,” Harry said softly. “Even under normal circumstances they're so... _expressive_ , but ever since you went quiet they seemed to show more of you than maybe you realized...even Severus couldn't do it how I could. And just now you looked so...so...content and happy while we packed up my stuff, so I just guessed.”

“Good guess,” Draco said with a small smile, and leant in for another kiss.

“Draco...” Harry murmured between kisses as he wrapped his arms around the blond's waist and drew him closer. “I—I love you...”

“Love you too,” Draco replied without pause, and Harry beamed as he pulled Draco into his lap before he kissed him again.

“Wait, wait,” Harry breathed suddenly, and Draco pulled back a little to scowl at him, and the brunet chuckled warmly as he lifted his hand to touch Draco's cheek gently. “God, you're adorable when you look mad at me.”

“I'm angry because you _stopped_ ,” Draco retorted snidely. “Why?”

“Seriously, you don't know?” Harry asked, blinking dazedly at him, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Would I ask if I knew?” Draco asked, his brow creasing in annoyance when Harry smiled at him broadly. “What is it now?”

“You sound...so amazing right now,” Harry breathed as he continued to grin. “You sound all snotty and sarcastic and annoyed with me...just like old times.”

“Want new times more,” Draco said as he inched forward to kiss Harry again. “Want—”

“—I think I know what you want,” Harry replied softly as he caught Draco's hands with his own, stopping his exploration of Harry short. “And I want it too, believe me, I do—but...Draco, you went through something awful not that long ago, and I think you, me, and Severus need to talk everything over before we even try. I just...I don't want to hurt you by accident...”

“You won't,” Draco said with absolute certainty as he perched himself more securely in Harry's lap, and locked his legs around his waist pointedly. “Want...I want it...”

“Love, please,” Harry murmured as he stroked his cheek. “I know it's probably frustrating, but can you just wait a little longer? I know you don't think I'd hurt you, but I'm not talking about a physical hurt. There's every chance I might do something that reminds you of...of what happened, and you might go silent again. I don't want to risk that; we need to try and think with our brains instead of our cocks, just for a little bit, and have that talk with Severus before we do anything. Okay?”

“But...” Draco gazed at Harry, floundering slightly as he tried to find the words. His fear at what he was feeling overwhelmed him, and he signed, “ _what if I never feel like this again?_ ”

“You will,” Harry reassured him, and touched his cheek again. “I guess it might not feel like it, but it'll be better this time to wait. _Believe me_ I want this too, but I want it with _both_ of my lovers, not just you, so we need to do the adult thing and talk everything out first. All right?”

“You are no fun,” Draco whined as he rested his head on Harry's shoulder, and the brunet chuckled as he rubbed Draco's back consolingly.

“I know,” Harry replied, “but I promise it's for the best.”

 

For another hour the pair packed up Harry's things, after Draco finally—albeit reluctantly—vacated his companion's lap.

The most miraculous moment for Draco however was when Harry excused himself to visit Mrs-Next-Door to get his animals from her, leaving him alone in Harry's flat where he remained strangely calm, and did not lose his head at Harry's absence.

_He is right next door,_ Draco told himself as he sat upon the sofa and waited for Harry to return. _He has not left you here, he will be back soon..._

The mantra aided Draco more than he had anticipated, and when Harry returned with a tawny owl on one shoulder, and a four-foot python coiled around his opposite forearm, he still felt completely at ease.

“Draco, this is Sisyphus and Belvedere,” Harry said, motioning first to the owl, then to the snake. The latter animal hissed, and Harry flushed a deep scarlet.

“What's wrong?” Draco asked, and Harry's face seemed to darken even further.

“Nothing. I just have a nosy snake who doesn't know how to mind his own business,” Harry muttered sourly, and the creature flicked out his tongue as though in agreement, while Draco chuckled softly as Harry added, “come on, I'll shrink these boxes, and we can get going.”

 

One uncomfortable Portkey trip later, which caused Harry's owl to shriek and fly off, and his snake to hiss indignantly and snap at his hands, they made it—more or less unscathed—back to the cottage.

The moment they'd landed, Harry and his snake began to have what looked like some sort of argument. They were hissing back and forth, Harry's brow was creased with annoyance, and the snake kept flickering his tongue and jerking irritably, until at last Harry turned to Draco and said, “I'll be right back, I just want to show Belvedere his new home, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Draco said as he nodded, with a small smile painting his lips. “I can take shrunk boxes inside?”

“Oh, sure,” Harry replied as he dug in his pocket, and pulled out a few dice-sized boxes, which he happily handed over to Draco. “I'll see you inside.”

Draco nodded again, and while he cradled the boxes in his hands like they were made of glass, he and Harry separated with Draco moving inside, and Harry circling the cottage as he headed for the greenhouse in the back.

Inside, Draco set down the boxes on the sitting room's coffee table, just as Severus stepped out of what appeared to be the cottage's basement, though Draco knew it was Severus's subterranean potions lab. The older man smirked a little when he spotted Draco, and swept in for a kiss in greeting.

Draco smiled inwardly as he wrapped his arms around Severus's neck, and deepened the kiss. The older man started a little, but did not protest as he looped his own arms around Draco's waist, drawing him close until they were pressed chest-to-chest.

“Draco...” Severus murmured against Draco's lips, his voice almost reverent, and Draco shivered with longing.

“Want...” Draco breathed, and the older man chuckled softly as he trailed his hand down Draco's back and under the hem of his shirt, before he snaked it back up his spine, tickling the flesh softly.

“I know that you do, you wicked little thing,” Severus said as he continued to kiss him. “But contrary to popular belief, I am not wholly amoral, and cannot yet give you what you want. First, we must _talk_.”

Draco groaned as he broke the kiss, and pressed his forehead to Severus's shoulder.

“You and Harry both. Don't _want_ to talk,” he whined, and Severus chuckled again.

“I know that you don't,” he replied. “I know that you wish to press forward as though nothing is wrong, and move on with your life, never looking back to the horrible events of your past. But, unfortunately, those things we wish to banish from our minds never truly go away, and sooner or later, we _must_ talk about them, or they might hurt us in ways we may not expect.”

“That's what Harry said,” Draco grumbled. “Don't _want_ to talk about it.”

“And, for once, Harry was right—”

“ _Oi!_ ” a voice shouted from the back door, “ _I heard that!_ ”

Draco covered his mouth to stifle a giggle, and Severus smirked as Harry stormed over to them, and crossed his arms as he said, “I'll have you know, Severus Snape, that I happen to be right about a _lot_ of things, not just the Talk-Before-We-Shag thing.”

“Which, as you recall, was _my_ idea first,” Severus pointed out, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“I give up, I don't even care anymore,” he said as he threw up his arms in frustration and defeat. “Can we please just get this over with?”

“Yes,” Severus agreed, pointedly ignoring Draco's frown as he spoke. “Let's talk.”

 


	28. Misconceptions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be June 24th. Enjoy :)

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Misconceptions

As Harry and Severus prepared a pot of tea and lavender shortbread for their _talk_ , one thing quickly became abundantly clear—no matter how they approached it, Draco _refused_ to cooperate.

Harry watched from the kitchen as he filled the teapot, while Draco sat on the sofa in the sitting room, his arms crossed, and face set into a scowl. The last time Harry could recall seeing Draco so agitated was that day in the pub well before all this had happened, and that alone told Harry that his stubbornness would likely test the patience of both Harry as well as Severus—perhaps even to the breaking point.

“Is it a mistake, making him talk like this?” Harry murmured to Severus, who was in the middle of plating the biscuits. “It looks like we might have better luck talking with a brick wall than with Draco right now.”

“I believe he will warm up to us when he sees what sort of discussion we intend on having with him,” Severus replied in a similarly soft tone of voice. “At the moment, I believe that he thinks we intend to dredge up every horrible thing that has occurred over the last few months, and make him mentally relive those traumas. Reassurance that that is not our intent will not go very far, but actually talking about safewords and the like will relax him more and help him realize what sort of discussion we plan to have with him, I think.”

“Until then I guess he'll keep doing the sourpuss thing, eh?”

“It would seem so, yes,” Severus replied, though a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he reached for Harry and gave his arse a slight squeeze, making him jump and laugh. “Would you care to help me put our third party at ease?”

Instead of answering verbally, Harry stopped what he was doing, crossed the small space between them, and offered Severus a light peck upon the lips.

“It would be my _pleasure_ , Severus.”

 

As they crossed back into the sitting room, it appeared as though Draco had not budged at all. He was still sitting entangled in himself with his arms and legs crossed, and a scowl set firmly upon his face. Like before, it still felt impossible to talk with him in this state, but Harry was nothing if not determined to see it through.

“Well,” Harry said as he set down the tea platter upon the coffee table, “it looks like you're completely ready to talk with us.”

The remark was met with ill-tempered silence, and Severus gave Harry a look that clearly said, _you're not helping_.

“Draco,” Severus began as he sat down, and rested a hand upon one of the blond's knees, “what is it that has you in such a state? Do you think Harry and I would insist that you relive all your darkest moments? That you tell us the detail of your rapes at the hands of those men, and the attack of Weasley and his cohorts?”

Draco did not respond verbally, but Harry spotted a slight shiver course through their companion. Harry immediately wanted to draw him into a hug, but he resisted the urge, choosing instead to sit at Draco's opposite side, and he rested his hand on Draco's knee, near to where Severus's was placed.

“That's not the plan, you know,” Harry offered, his voice soft and consoling, but Draco did not look up. “We just want to set some sort of ground rules, now that it looks like you're ready to be sexual with us.” Harry glanced up to Severus, who nodded in encouragement, bidding that he continue. “We want to come up with ways for you to communicate to us if something gets too overwhelming...or...or if we accidentally remind you of something...things like that.”

“Triggers can be very powerful, Draco, and the last thing Harry or I wish is to inadvertently is remind you of that which you do not want to remember.”

“ _Don't understand_ ,” Draco signed, his hands trembling a little, but still he would not look at Harry or Severus. Harry exchanged a look with the older man, who seemed to slump in frustration or defeat—perhaps both.

“Come closer, my beautiful boy,” Severus said, his hand migrating from Draco's knee to rest under the blond's chin, tilting his gaze up until he caught Draco with his eyes. Draco froze, his eyes wide with clear fright.

Harry watched Severus close the distance between himself and Draco, pulling him into a gentle, tender kiss, drawing it out until Draco began to visibly relax before he pulled back and whispered something to Draco, but too softly for Harry to hear. Draco lifted his hands and began to make the sign for _sorry_ , but Severus rested a hand over Draco's, stopping him short.

“There is no need for apologies, Draco,” Severus said. “Your fear is perfectly understandable—perhaps it may have been less if Harry and I had explained ourselves more succinctly, you would have not assumed the worst.”

“Succ-what?” Harry asked, and felt himself flush when Severus rolled his eyes, and Draco snorted softly.

“It means perfectly, you numbskull,” Severus said, and Harry laughed weakly.

“Oh. Sorry.”

Draco rolled his eyes, turned to Harry, and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck to draw him into a kiss, one which Harry was happy to return, until Draco pulled back a little and murmured, “it's a good thing you're pretty.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Harry said sarcastically, “now I'm the butt of both of your stupid jokes.”

“And you weren't before?” Severus asked, the faintest of smirks tugging at the corners of his mouth while Draco covered the bottom half of his face, his shoulders quivering with silent laughter, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“I don't even know _why_ I put up with you two Slytherin prats,” Harry said with a dramatic huff. “Clearly, all you want me for is as a verbal punching bag.”

“And for your body,” Severus quipped smoothly, reaching around Draco's back to squeeze Harry's arse once. “I quite delight in making your little body squirm under mine.”

“Pervert,” Harry said as he swatted Severus's arm lightly, and Draco giggled a little

“Back to the topic at hand,” Severus continued, as though there had been no interruption, “we wish only to cover what might make you uncomfortable in the bedroom before we proceed. Does that make sense, Draco?”

“Yes,” Draco said in a soft and almost unfamiliar tone, not unlike the voice he spoke in when he had first resumed speaking. “Um...can't be skewered, and can't d-do one after the other, because...because...” he shook his head when his voice caught, as though he was trying to clear his mind. “Because I can't. Can use sign during this?”

“Love, if you're not ready for us to do this, we don't have to,” Harry said as he wrapped an arm around him. “You're getting really scared, I can see it, and neither of us want you to feel obligated to do anything because of us—we only want to do this if _you_ want it.”

“It may be better to use a sound or vocalization if we do something you dislike, Draco,” Severus said at the same time. “In the heat of the moment, so to speak, we may miss a sign, which, as you can imagine, is something we do not wish to do.”

“Too much...too much...” Draco buried his face in his hands, while Harry opened his mouth to speak again, startled by Draco's reaction, but at the same moment he spotted Severus shaking his head at him. To his surprise, Draco turned to Severus for consolation, and not himself, and shivering slightly, he buried his face in the crook of the older man's neck, sniffling softly as he tried to calm down, while Harry strove to ignore the twinge of jealousy that had settled in his chest.

“Perhaps it might be best to resume this discussion tomorrow,” Severus said as he moved to rub Draco's back. “When we're all a bit calmer.”

 

~*~

 

Draco lay curled up in his old room, his back facing the door as he stared at the wall. He could hear the low thrum of Harry and Severus arguing in the other room, but this time he didn't care to eavesdrop. In fact, he didn't much care about _anything_ either of them had to say.

_They don't even care about me, and Harry still sees me as a weakling,_ Draco thought miserably as he drew his pillow over his head. _What sort of relationship can we expect to have if they only see me like that? Maybe sex really_ is _all that I'm good for; maybe I should just leave and go back to selling myself._

However, the mere thought of leaving the cottage made Draco want to weep. He didn't want to leave, he wanted to _stay_. Could he, though, if Severus and Harry had such poor views of him?

_Harry thinks I'm a baby and Severus...I don't know what Severus thinks of me, he keeps so much locked away, but I'm certain that it can't be good...perhaps he just wants me because I'm a pretty-boy._

And wasn't _that_ a depressing thought.

Stifling a small sob, Draco buried his face deeper in the pillow, and tried to will his mind to go blank.

 

Though Draco had retired to his bedroom around lunchtime, he did not properly wake again until the following morning, and by his estimation, had slept fitfully for nearly a full sixteen hours.

His stomach rumbling in protest to the long sleep, Draco stepped out of his bedroom hesitantly. His hair was mussed, he was still in his pyjamas, and he didn't bother with either a wash or a dressing gown as he inched towards the main area of the cottage. As he did so, the voices of Harry and Severus filtered back to him.

“How is he even still asleep?” Harry asked, and Draco heard the soft _crunch_ of Harry eating something before he said thickly, “how do you know he hasn't slipped into a coma or something?”

“Don't be so foolish, and don't talk with your mouth full,” Severus admonished impatiently, his tone making Draco wonder just _how_ many times they'd had this discussion. “He has depression, I have told you as much no less than a hundred times, Harry. Depression severely exhausts the body and in reality, this is nothing—I have seen far worse. His anxiety attack during our talk proved to me that he is not ready for intimacy, regardless what his libido might be trying to tell him, and _your_ remark certainly did not help things.”

“How many times do I need to say I'm sorry?” Harry demanded indignantly, “I didn't realize I was being condescending by saying that, all right? I was just _worried_. I don't want Draco to push himself on our account. I love him—as much as I love you, even when you're being a git—and I don't want to hurt him or accidentally push him. What if he thinks we just want him for the sex after yesterday? I'd _hate_ myself if I ever made him think that.”

“You have said _nothing_ to him!”

“Because he was _sleeping_ , and you told me not to bother him!”

“Oh, and you have simply been _ignoring_ the sounds of the distress charms going off, have you?” Severus sniped, “regardless how quiet he appears, inside is a raging typhoon of emotion, and you _know_ it.”

“This is so stupid,” Harry said with a growl, and Draco heard the leather of the sofa creak as Harry stood up. “Would you just make up your bloody mind of what you want? Leave Draco alone to calm down, or go and console him? I can't do both at once. I hope you know _I_ hate seeing him suffer, too, but I'm trying to do the right thing to help him, except I don't know what that is.”

“Just talk,” Draco finally interrupted, his voice slipping past his lips in something close to a gasp as he crossed the threshold into the sitting room, and both Harry and Severus's heads whipped towards him so quickly that it made Draco jump a little.

“T-talk,” Draco repeated, his entire body quivering with fear as he gazed at Harry and Severus. “Please.”

Both men stood up. Harry vaulted over the sofa like a hurdler, while Severus circled the piece of furniture more elegantly, so much so that he seemed to glide, rather than walk.

Despite their vast differences in approach, Severus and Harry reached him at the same time, and drew Draco into a strange, multiple-armed group hug. Harry rested his head on Draco's shoulder, while Severus kissed his temple lightly as Harry said, “we won't exclude you again, love, we were just worried that we pushed you too far, too soon.”

“ _Ask me, don't talk about me,_ ” Draco signed crossly, his voice lost somewhere in his throat, and Severus chuckled warmly as he caught Draco's chin between his thumb and forefinger, and coaxed him into a sweet kiss.

“I swear to you, it will not happen again,” Severus murmured against his lips, before he kissed him again. “We both love you, and do not wish to hurt you.”

“'M sorry,” Draco murmured while Harry and Severus, as one, began to gently guide him towards the sofa. “Was...was being silly...yesterday...”

“Nonsense,” Harry said gently as he petted the blond's hair. “We came at you from all sides, we asked too many things of you all at once, and you got overwhelmed. That was _our_ fault, Draco, not yours.”

“For once, Harry is right,” Severus said, but ignored Harry's huff of annoyance at the light jibe. “I feel that your reaction yesterday tells us that you are not ready to be taken to bed, but perhaps, if you wish to take a more proactive approach to the issue, you could come to bed with us tonight? Rest between us? Nothing would happen if you truly do not wish it to—beyond sleep. You may say no if you wish, Draco, this is not a demand, and neither of us will think any less of you if you choose to refuse.”

“You both...you make me feel safe,” Draco admitted, his cheeks flushing pink as he spoke. “May I think on it first? Yesterday was...bad. Overwhelming, Harry said.”

“Of course, Draco,” Severus said, and Draco felt his heart flutter as he shared a kiss not just with Severus, but with Harry as well.

 

The day passed, and Draco felt as though his companions had been walking on eggshells around him ever since their talk earlier that afternoon. He wanted to glare at them for this behaviour, but that usually only led to Harry freaking out, and Severus psycho-analyzing him, which did not help to improve his mood. As a result, he resisted the temptation.

Harry's attitude, in addition to being frustrating to deal with, did not make Draco's emotional state any better. Harry asked him _if he needed anything_ at least once an hour, while Severus took the hint better than Harry did, and disappeared into his lab, only coming up for air when it was time to prepare dinner.

Over individual homemade pot pies—chicken for Draco, beef for Harry, and salmon for Severus—once again he was subject to more of the same, as though both men expected him to fall into a hysterical fit at any moment. How could he _possibly_ explain to his two lovers how their attitudes were making it _harder_ for him to be okay? If anything, they were making him feel bad that he didn't feel better.

“I want to be better,” Draco said suddenly, while he placed his fork in the empty pastry shell of his pie. “I thought I was better, and I want to be able to be intimate like a normal cou—partnership?...no, like normal _lovers_. I thought I was my old self, but I'm not.” Draco paused, and gazed up at his companions. “What if I can never be my old self again?”

“You will, Draco, in time,” Severus replied without pause as he reached for the blond, and briefly rested a hand on his arm. “I know you might feel obligated to rush on our account, but do not be—regardless if it takes you another week, month, or year, we will wait for you. And if you decide that this arrangement is not to your tastes, we will, of course, not force it upon you, either.”

“Were you _always_ this nice?” Harry interrupted, his eyebrows raised so high upon his forehead that they were at risk of disappearing into his hair. “Or did you get thumped on the head during the final battle?”

“Very funny,” Severus said snidely as he rolled his eyes. “I happen to be _quite_ nice, just generally not to annoying little Gryffindor twits who seem to revel in ruining the moment.”

Harry flushed a faint red and bowed his head a little, mumbling an apology before he added in a louder voice, “Draco, I hope you know Severus speaks for me as well. We _both_ want you better, and neither of us want to rush you.”

“Yes, that is what I meant when I used the pronoun, _we_ , Harry,” Severus said dryly, and Harry flushed again.

Draco covered his mouth to stifle a giggle, then reached across the table for Harry and Severus both, squeezing each of their hands briefly before he signed, “ _thank you_.”

 

Later that night, after Draco had helped Harry clear up following dinner, the three retired to the back garden to relax together, and enjoy the summer sounds of the woods that surrounded their quaint little home. At first, Harry had wandered off to check on his snake, but returned quickly with a satisfied smile, and sat down with Draco to gaze up at the stars, while Severus buried his nose in another book, reading by wandlight.

They sat in comfortable, companionable silence. Harry sat next to him on the cushioned bench, his head perched on Draco's shoulder as they gazed up at the stars and crescent moon, the occasional bat or owl making the starlight flicker like a sputtering candle. It was warm and peaceful, and helped Draco to fully distract himself from all the things he'd rather not think on. That, perhaps, was the gift of his two lovers—to still his mind, and bring him peace.

Draco stayed out well past the other two. Harry and Severus had retired fairly early after they reminded Draco once again that he was welcome to join them in their bed if he chose to, but they would not fault him if he opted to sleep in solitude again.

Draco stared up at the stars, at a loss for what to do.

In truth, Draco liked the idea of sleeping alongside his two lovers. That first night that he had joined them after his nightmare had made him feel safe—safer than he had felt in _years_. But at the same time, after their catastrophic _talk_ , Draco wasn't so certain that their motives were still completely pure. What if they thought his consent to share their bed regularly came with newer, more sexual connotations?

Draco yawned, and knew that he would need to decide soon. It was late, and likely Severus and Harry were asleep by now—he didn't want to disturb them.

_But if they're asleep, that probably means they're not up for...anything_ , Draco thought drowsily, while he tried to sift through the hundreds of reassurances both Severus and Harry had spouted at him over the last day. They had reminded him, over and over, that they would do nothing that would make him uncomfortable. Obviously that extended to the bedroom, but part of Draco's mind was quite insistent that they were lying, and would coax him into some activity or another the moment he chose to lie with them again.

At the same time however, the idea of going to bed, alone, without his two lovers bracketing him, made Draco feel like he had been cast out to sea without even a plank of wood to keep himself above water.

_I need them,_ Draco thought as he stood with purpose, and turned to face the back door of the house. He took a slow breath to steady himself, then stepped inside.

 

Draco went about his usual nighttime rituals—brushing his teeth, washing his face, and donning his pyjamas, before he headed to the bedroom at the end of the narrow hall. Unfortunately, he had been so wrapped up in himself that he had failed to notice the soft little sounds of pleasure emanating from the room, and when he opened the door, he let out a tiny squeak of surprise when he came upon Severus and Harry completely intertwined in a deep kiss, one of Harry's bare legs thrown over Severus's, and their gyrating, naked bodies making it clear just what sort of activity they were engaging in.

Horrified and embarrassed, Draco rushed from the room, even as Harry's voice filtered back to him, but his ignominy was too heightened, and the call was white noise to his ears as he realized that he had been right all along. With this knowledge, he fled, blinded by tears, to the safety and solitude of his own bedroom.

 


	29. Apologies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update is scheduled for July 1st. Sorry for the slight delay in posting!

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Apologies

 

“I could kill you,” Harry growled, still very much naked as he stepped away from the door and turned back to glare at Severus. He put on a high, mocking tone of voice, and immediately began to mimic the older man.

“ _Oh, Harry, let's have a frottage-style fuck; clearly Draco doesn't plan to join us tonight since it's already so late, we can get in a quick shag before we sleep, no worries about totally_ ruining _all the progress we've made by traumatizing a rape victim by seeing his two lovers like that—”_

“He has seen us intimate before, Harry,” Severus pointed out calmly, his brow arched, and Harry felt his face flush. He recalled Severus filling him in on Draco's not-quite-so-innocent voyeur moment, but he still found it hard to believe. “I think it was certain connotations that scared him off this time, not the intimacy itself.”

“How d'you mean?” Harry asked as he approached the bed again and sat upon the end. Severus immediately reached for Harry and drew him closer, and though Harry was still very cross with him, he grudgingly allowed Severus to pull him in, stopping only when Harry was spooned against his chest.

“What I mean is that we have spent the better part of the last two days reassuring Draco that we would not press him for anything sexual until he felt truly ready. We encouraged him to share our bed for nothing more than sleep, and then not long afterwards, he walked in on us in the throes of passion. I would assume that, in his mind, he may have saw it less as an encounter between the two of us, and something we would insist that he take part in.”

“But that's...that's _mental!_ ” Harry responded, rolling over to face his lover as he spoke. “How could he think that, after all the things we said about promising to not force him?”

“You _still_ do not understand the inner workings of the mind, even after mastering Occlumency on such a basic level,” Severus snapped, and Harry winced, uncertain what he'd said to upset his companion so severely. “For Draco's mind to truly accept a concept as irrefutable fact, he cannot simply be _told_ that we intend to be patient with him, he must _see_ that we are constant in our conviction. Too little time has passed for this to occur, and so as a result, as I said, when he saw us, his mind immediately jumped to the worst possible scenario.”

“So what should we do?” Harry asked, “should we talk to him, or leave him be until he calms down?”

“In this case, I think that it might be best to nip it in the bud, so to speak,” Severus said with a resigned sort of sigh. “I imagine that Draco will not be pleased to see either of us at the moment, but it is better than allowing his negative thoughts to fester all night.”

“I'll go first,” Harry said as he got up and headed for the closed door of their bedroom. “I'll go talk to him, then you can come in. That way, he won't feel as crowded...all right?”

“It is a workable plan,” Severus agreed with a slight nod, while he arched a brow at Harry. “I do have one small suggestion, however.”

“What's that?”

“Put on some trousers first,” Severus said dryly, and Harry's eyes immediately dropped down to his bare legs, and he felt himself flush.

Mumbling something of an apology, Harry hurried back over to their wardrobe and pulled out a set of pyjama bottoms and an old grey T-shirt.

Adequately dressed so as to not further traumatize their third party, Harry stepped out into the hall and headed for Draco's bedroom, but he stopped in mid-step as his heart froze in his chest when he caught the soft sound of crying filtering out from it. Though he wanted to leave Draco be when he was clearly so upset, he ignored the urge as he took a small breath to steady himself, then knocked on the door.

“ _Go away_ ,” Draco called, which Harry ignored as he let himself in, and once again he felt a deep ache in his chest at the sight of Draco huddled up on his bed, the duvet draped over his shoulders like a cloak, and his face wet with tears.

“I _told_ you to go away,” Draco sniped, his voice somewhat froggy from his heightened emotional state, but Harry thought it was a good thing that Draco was speaking in complete sentences, at least.

“Yeah, and when have I ever done what I was told?” Harry asked teasingly as he stepped farther into the room, and Draco shot him a glare, but it was muted somewhat by the tears on his face. “Come on, Draco, can't I talk to you? What happened back there...it's not what you think.”

“Oh _isn't_ it?” he sneered angrily. “For all your so-called _promises_ , you...you...” Draco trailed off as he hiccoughed, fresh tears trickling down his cheeks, and Harry felt his heart break a little at the sight.

“Draco, love, it was so late we just assumed that you had decided to sleep alone,” Harry said gently as he reached the bedside, but when he moved to sit next to the blond, he did not miss the way he cringed away from Harry, and with a small sigh, he pulled up a chair instead before he continued. “We never wanted you to feel pushed into anything, and _especially_ not that. We thought you weren't coming to bed, so we decided to...well, you know.”

Harry flushed as he chuckled weakly, but Draco's frown did not dim at all from the explanation. It seemed as though Draco still did not believe him, and that made Harry's heart twinge painfully.

“Draco, we love you—we _both_ love you. Your mental well-being is more important to us than anything else, I swear. No matter how randy we are, no matter how much we want it, we'd _never_ ask you or try to push you towards sex. You're in charge here, and only you get to decide when you're ready for that. We don't want it if you don't want it. Does that make sense?”

“No,” Draco said sourly as his arms tensed, like he wanted to cross them more firmly. His gaze dropped from Harry, his eyes still burning with anguish and betrayal, but if Harry wasn't mistaken, it seemed as though his expression had softened a little. “It...it makes no sense. Why _wouldn't_ you want to do it?”

“I just told you,” Harry said, his voice edged with mild annoyance, “you're still recovering, and despite the fact that you obviously _want_ to be better, you're not quite there yet. If we did anything with you now, it would only hinder your recovery, not help it.”

“You're starting to talk like Severus,” Draco observed, and Harry smiled at him softly. He had a feeling that the random change in topic had more to do with a desire to _not_ talk about what had just happened than anything else.

“I suppose it has to do with the fact that I've mostly had you and him for company over the last few months,” Harry replied with a small smirk, “you tend to adopt little quirks of those you love, you know.”

“You love Severus...do you?”

“As much as I love you,” Harry replied smoothly. “Which is a lot, in case you were wondering.”

 

~*~

 

“I still sometimes wonder why you do,” Draco muttered, but apparently he had spoken too loudly, because Harry offered him a weak, watery smile. Harry looked sympathetic, but it seemed as though he was trying not to show it.

“Why, because you're so achingly lovely that when you walk into a room all eyes turn to you, and it's impossible to look away?”

Draco squirmed uncomfortably at Harry's words, but he continued as though he hadn't noticed his reaction to the compliment.

“Or maybe because of your strength?” Harry asked, “you were dumped in the muggle world, penniless, alone, and with an ill father, and somehow, impossibly, you survived it?”

Draco flushed this time, though he wasn't certain whether it was from Harry's words, or the sweet smile that was spread across his lips as he spoke.

“Or maybe...it's because of your heart.” Harry paused, and offered him another warm, loving smile. “You had to put yourself through absolute hell just to feed your family, and all that could have hardened your heart, made you cold, but instead you opened your heart not just to one person, but _two_. Can you even begin to imagine how amazing that is, Draco? _You're_ amazing.”

“He's right, you know,” another voice chimed in, and Harry smiled as he turned towards the door. Draco followed his gaze, and he spotted Severus letting himself in.

“You are stronger than you know,” Severus continued, “and both Harry and myself are in constant awe of your inner strength, and your capacity to love. You are more important to us than anything, my— _our_ beautiful boy, and no force on this earth could ever compel us to do anything that might cause you harm. What you saw back in our room was nothing more than my and Harry's libido working against us—”

Harry cleared his throat pointedly, and Severus rolled his eyes.

“Fine, fine... _my_ libido was working against us, and I had honestly assumed you'd chosen to go to bed alone when I made the suggestion that Harry and I...shall we say, wear ourselves out a little before we went to sleep. It was foolish, Draco, and I am sorry that you had to see that. Moreover, I am sorry that you came to such a horrifying conclusion—never have Harry or I ever entertained the idea of encouraging you or pushing you towards intimacy. As Harry and I have said countless times—we only want to go forward with a sexual relationship with you when _you_ feel ready for it, and not before.”

Draco felt his throat grow tight, and his bottom lip quivered as he gazed upon his two lovers. Severus approached them at a slow but steady pace, before he sat down on the edge of the bed, and Draco immediately folded himself into the older man's arms, a soft whimper slipping past his lips as he buried his face in the crook of Severus's neck and tried to hold back his tears.

“There, there, Draco,” Severus murmured as he rubbed his back. “Come rest with us. I promise that you are safe.”

“Yeah,” Harry added, though his voice sounded oddly raspy as he spoke, “you're safe with us, Draco—you can trust us.”

Draco glanced up to be certain, but Harry wasn't crying. He couldn't quite understand then why his voice sounded off, but Harry was smiling, so Draco supposed it couldn't be anything bad.

“ _Scared_ ,” Draco signed, and moved to continue his train of thought with BSL, but Severus suddenly laid a hand over his, his expression calm and unreadable.

“Tell us what you are feeling with your words, Draco,” Severus said, his tone gentle, and very much unlike the Severus that Draco _thought_ he knew. “You have shown great strength in reclaiming your speech, do not let my and Harry's miscalculation hinder you now.”

“I...I...” Draco broke off and swallowed thickly, then tried again. “R-rationally, I know that you would do nothing to harm me, but I still feel like you'll ask for something as...as...recompense.”

Draco hung his head to hide the fact that he was beginning to hyperventilate. His head spun with dizziness as his panic bubbled quickly to the surface, and he felt as though he'd run a marathon, not spoken a few words. However, Severus seemed to realize what he was trying to do, and was quick to gently lift Draco's gaze to meet his, and moved in for a gentle peck upon his lips.

“We expect nothing of you, Draco,” Severus murmured. “I can only imagine how difficult it must feel to you, to imagine people who only wish to see you well and nothing more, but it is true—contrary to what House you and I hail from, this is not an elaborate scheme to get you into bed faster, or at all, if that is your wish.”

“I feel safe with you and Harry, and I liked sleeping with—erm, _resting_ with you two,” Draco admitted, his gaze shifting to Harry as he spoke, and he reached for him. Harry smiled, and immediately took one of his hands. “But...I am afraid that you might...”

Draco broke off abruptly and shivered. He _couldn't_ say it.

“And what would convince you that we have no such intentions?” Severus asked as he lifted a hand to card it through Draco's hair, and the young men sighed as he leant into the gentle touch.

“Don't know,” he said, “I don't want to be scared, least of all of either of you...I don't mean to be.”

“It's not your fault, Draco,” Harry said forcefully, and Draco glanced up to him, watching as Harry moved from the chair to sit at Draco's opposite side, and looped his arm around him, tugging him close as he continued to speak, so that he was perched comfortably between the two men upon the edge of the bed. “Something awful happened to you that wasn't your fault. Your fear is totally normal, and you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Perhaps this might help,” Severus said as he lifted his wand and waved it once. An instant later, a small, shiny object came whizzing through the air, which Severus caught deftly.

Severus held out his hand to Draco. Draco stared bemusedly back at the older man before it clicked what he wanted of him, he cupped his hands as he watched Severus drop something small, round, and cold into his hands.

The object had been warmed ever so slightly by Severus's touch, but it still felt a little cool as Draco handled it. He squinted in the dark at the object, and after a moment he realized that it was a small golden bead, roughly the size of a small blueberry, with some sort of symbol on the side of it, though Draco couldn't quite make it out in the dimness of the room.

“It's a golden bead with a sun symbol inscribed upon it,” Severus explained as he resumed stroking Draco's hair gently. “I can add it to your bracelet, and it may help with some of your intimacy anxieties. It will not compel you to do anything you do not wish, I promise you that, it is a protective talisman—nothing more. It may aid in relaxing your fears of sharing a bed with us; however, it does not mean we wish to rush you towards intimacy in any way, Draco, we are trying to help you, not hurt you.”

“He's right, Draco,” Harry added as he laid a hand on his knee. Draco glanced down at it, and in the process his gaze fell to his forearm where the bracelet Harry had given so long ago still resided.

The crystal beads were still as bright and shiny as the day Harry had given it to him, but as Draco gained more weight and regained his strength his arm had thickened ever so slightly, and now it rested incrementally higher upon his wrist. The beads clicked slightly as Draco moved his arm, before he returned his gaze to his two lovers.

“Okay,” Draco said to Severus, exhaling as he said it, while having been wholly unaware that he'd even been holding his breath to begin with.

Severus smiled slightly instead of remarking on it, and with another small flick of his wand, he added the bead to Draco's bracelet.

Draco had expected to feel something as the bead was added to the others, it gleaming brightly against the dark gleams of the obsidian and onyx—perhaps a boost of confidence, or knowledge that his lovers had no intentions for him, but he felt no different at all.

“Would you care to join us for sleep, Draco?” Severus asked, drawing him from his thoughts, and he glanced up at Severus, blinking bemu **s** edly up at the older man, while Harry continued to sit at his side. “It is perfectly all right if you still wish to stay alone for the night. After what you have just witnessed, neither Harry nor myself would begrudge you for choosing to sleep without us.”

“No, I...” Draco paused as he tried to find the right words. “You both make me feel safe in sleep, and I like that feeling. But I'm still scared, and I _hate_ that I'm scared. I don't want to be.”

“Come lie with us a while,” Severus suggested gently, once more lifting a hand to gently stroke Draco's hair. “If you still feel nervous, you are welcome to leave. Neither Harry nor myself would force you to remain there.”

“All right,” Draco replied readily, and felt his spirits lift a little at the way Harry beamed at him.

Severus and Harry both stood up, and they waited patiently for Draco to join them. Though they seemed to be watching him intently, neither man pressed Draco to hurry up. Instead, they exchanged a look, then both offered Draco a smile before Harry said, “just join us when you're ready,” then they both turned and headed out of the room.

Draco listened to the soft thrum of their voices permeate the walls as they passed from the hall and into their own bedroom, but they never lifted in anger, or sounded sexual in the least. They sounded...normal; benign, even, as though they were discussing nothing more significant than the weather.

Bolstered by this, Draco pushed himself to his feet. With one hand idly twirling the gold bead upon his opposing wrist, Draco slowly followed his two lovers’ path out of the room.

 

When Draco made it to the master bedroom, Harry and Severus were curled up together, still in pyjamas—thankfully—with Harry's head resting on Severus's upper arm while they talked softly.

There was no smell of sex in the room, for which Draco was grateful, and instead nothing but the scent of the sweet summer night air filtering in from the open window.

Upon Draco's entrance both men fell silent and turned to him, making him freeze in mid-step. Harry smiled at him a little nervously, while Severus pulled back the duvet in silent invitation.

Encouraged, Draco moved closer, and Harry shifted out of the way, making space for Draco between himself and Severus.

“I...” Draco broke off as he stood awkwardly at the edge of the bed. Harry reached out an inviting hand, but at the last moment seemed to think better of touching him, and merely waited silently.

Draco slipped into the bed, forcing back his nerves at what he had witnessed in the same space not too long ago, and it was surprisingly easier than he had anticipated to do so. He settled himself between Harry and Severus, and smiled softly when he felt warmth envelop him on either side, before Harry and Severus each draped an arm across his middle, and each bestowed him with a gentle, tender kiss.

“You're safe, Draco,” Severus murmured softly.

“We'll always protect you,” Harry added, and Draco felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as he relaxed, and settled in for sleep.

 

The following morning, much like the last time Draco had shared a bed with his lovers, he woke blanketed by a sense of peace and safety. This feeling continued well into the morning, until Severus had prompted him with something unexpected over breakfast.

“Would you care to accompany me into the woods today, Draco?” Severus asked, and across the table, Harry stiffened slightly. “Some of my feral herb and fungi stores are getting low, and I need to replenish them.”

“Me?” Draco asked in a small voice, “but...I haven't touched a cauldron in six years.”

“The knowledge is still there, if possibly buried under your...other experiences,” Severus replied simply. “You were always one of my most adept potions students, and I have no doubt that you would be an exceptional helper.”

Draco smiled a little, and nodded. Really, there was no reason to reject the offer. Now, the prospect of venturing out of the cottage did not scare him as it once had, and besides, he would be with Severus, who he trusted implicitly.

“Well, if you two are going to be gone all day, I guess I'll go visit Hermione,” Harry said brightly, though at the same time there seemed to be something odd about Harry's tone, as though he was trying to force himself to be more cheerful, which made no sense to Draco. Wasn't Harry happy?

“We shall endeavour to return for teatime, and spend the late afternoon together, if you would like, Harry,” Severus added, and Harry smiled again, though this time it seemed a little more natural.

“Yeah, all right,” he agreed with a short nod. “Shall I pick something up? Biscuits or sandwiches or something?”

“Can you get some chocolate-dipped shortbread?” Draco asked as he reached across the table for Harry, and his lover seemed to relax a little as he took Draco's hand. “Dark chocolate, mind you.”

“You Slytherins with your prissy taste buds,” Harry teased, and both Draco and Severus snorted.

“ _Refined_ ,” Draco and Severus said at exactly the same time, and exchanged a look while Harry began to laugh.

 

After breakfast, Draco and Severus readied themselves for the day ahead, packing up antivenin, burn and itch salve, and more menial items such as sun cream and insect repellent.

“You'll need more appropriate clothing for foraging with me,” Severus said in a distracted tone as he inspected Draco's pitiful wardrobe. One good suit which Severus had bought him, ratty, overlarge jumpers and tight jeans, leather trousers, and mesh shirts all crammed together in the cardboard box that Narcissa had sent along. It was quite an apropos comment, really, and Draco nodded immediately in agreement while he forced away thoughts of his mother.

Instead of conjuring something however, Severus stepped out of his room for a moment, and returned with a box that read _River and Dale_ on the top of it—a popular shop in Diagon Alley, Draco knew, that catered to the needs of fisherman and hunters, as well as foraging potioneers.

“This is for you,” Severus continued, “I had the measurements from your suit saved, and I sent them along to have some garments made for you.”

“You have been planning this a while,” Draco noted as he accepted the package. “Thank you.”

Severus merely nodded, apparently waiting for Draco to open the parcel in his hands. Draco dropped his gaze to it, and carefully slit the pieces of spellotape that were holding it shut, and opened the box to reveal a lovely pair of trousers. They were styled like a pair of common jeans, but they were softer to the touch, and as Draco lifted them from the box he could feel how supple they were as well, almost like a pair of cotton leggings of dusky blue-grey, but not quite as tight.

“Severus...” Draco breathed as he studied the garment, “these are... _beautiful_.”

“There are also these for you,” Severus said as he opened Draco's untouched oak wardrobe, and pulled a pair of elegant but practical hiking boots from the bottom of it, the disillusionment charm that had hidden them flickering and dying as Severus displayed the item to Draco. “Tuck your trousers into them when you dress to keep from any insects getting to your legs.”

Draco picked up one of the boots with his free hand to admire them. They were slender and elegant, almost effeminate in their design, but at the same time distinctly masculine in shape. The leather was black, but with a green glint that told Draco they were made of dragonhide. Really, they weren't simply _boots—_ they were pieces of art.

“There is also this,” Severus said, reaching into Draco's once again, this time revealing a white long-sleeved shirt, which looked as though the sleeves would come to a stop roughly halfway down Draco's forearms. It was made of simple, raw cotton, designed to breathe and protect the skin in equal measure—it was a traditional potioneer's foraging shirt, regardless how _muggle_ the style appeared. Robes were, quite simply, not ideal for traversing the forest in.

“Thank you, Severus,” Draco said, aware that he was repeating himself, but also not caring very much. Instead, he closed the distance between them, got on his toes, and offered the older man a gentle kiss, one which Severus was clearly all too happy to return.

“Get changed,” Severus murmured against his mouth as he leant in for another kiss, his arm curling around Draco's waist, and his fingers pressing firmly, but gently into his spine, tracing it as he spoke. “I shall wait for you in the sitting room.”

Without another word, Severus stepped back from Draco, turned, and left him to change in peace.

 


	30. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be July 8th. Enjoy :)

Chapter Thirty – Confessions

 

“Oh wow,” Harry said as Draco stepped out of his bedroom in the new clothing that Severus had gotten for him, and the blond flushed under Harry’s praise. “You look like you’re planning a night on the town, not like you’re ready to go tramping through the woods.”

“Draco looks good in practically anything,” Severus added smoothly as he stepped up to Draco’s side, and pressed a kiss to his lips, which made Draco giggle nervously under all the attention.

_He looks good in nothing too,_ Harry thought as he watched them, but he knew better than to voice the comment. It was too close to everything to be considered a joke, and after the previous night’s misadventures, he wasn’t keen to accidentally make things any worse.

“Yeah, he does,” Harry finally agreed, and stood up to move to his two lovers, first kissing Severus, then Draco, the latter of which may have been a little more drawn out than it needed to be, but neither man seemed to notice.

_I wish I could get rid of this stupid jealousy,_ Harry thought as he hid his feelings behind a benign smile. _I love them both equally, I know that I do, so why do I get so jealous whenever I see Draco getting affection from Severus? It doesn’t make sense!_

“We will aim to be back for tea, Harry,” Severus said, drawing Harry from his thoughts, and when he returned to their present conversation, he forced a small smile as he nodded, his gaze falling to the arm Severus currently had around Draco, and he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as the mere sight of it merely sparked more negative thoughts— _what if Severus decides that Draco is all he needs, and I’ve just been a placeholder until Draco felt better?_

The thought was so horrible that for one wild moment, Harry had the overwhelming compulsion to throw himself to the ground and beg them both not to go as the thoughts continued to attack his mind.

 

_What if they never come back?_

_What if they run off together, and leave me all alone?_

_What if they don’t actually care about me at all?_

 

The concept almost brought Harry to tears as he replied hoarsely, “yeah, I’ll...I’ll see you two then,” but luckily he managed to keep the invasive, negative thoughts in check as they both kissed him again, and then turned to head for the door.

Harry watched them go, his weak smile never fading from his expression as he waved them off, almost wishing that he could tag along, but unfortunately—according to Severus, at least—he was about as helpful as a fart in a jam jar when it came to anything potions-related, and so he did not bother asking; he knew what the response would be.

“God help me, I love the man, but he sure knows how to throw insults my way when it comes to potions,” Harry muttered to himself as he stepped outside once his lovers had disappeared into the woods, and he willed himself away to Hermione’s house.

 

Hermione was surprised to see him, but thankfully she did not appear upset by his impromptu visit. In fact, Harry couldn’t tell who was more happy to see him—her, or her dog.

Dobby barked as he ran circles around Harry’s legs, making Hermione giggle as Harry tried halfheartedly to catch him. It was good to see Hermione smile again, and for a moment at least her sunny smile effectively distracted him from his problems.

“I hope you don’t mind me dropping by like this,” Harry said as she waved him farther inside. “But what with Severus and Draco off in the woods collecting potions ingredients, I thought it’d be a good time to visit and everything...”

“It’s fine,” Hermione replied with a small, almost shy smile as Harry followed her from the hall and into her little kitchen. “I mean...I don’t get out so much anymore, so it’s nice to see you, but ever since everything with the Weasleys happened...well, you could say I haven’t been alone as much as I expected to be.”

“What does _that_ mean?” Harry asked, and Hermione smiled again.

“A few of the girls from Hogwarts, in our year and the years above and below us have reached out to me after it started spreading what happened, and we’ve exchanged owls a few times. I think it’s somewhere between acquaintance and friendship, and...I’m hopeful. It’s been lonely, dealing with this, and it’s nice to know that people still care, you know?”

“Yeah, I’ve been pretty isolated too, what with losing my job and the stuff with...stuff,” Harry said awkwardly, uncertain if he should name Ron or not, but Hermione did not react beyond a knowing glint in her eye, and so Harry continued quickly, “but it’s not been as bad, I’ve sort of felt the after-effects, you know? And...er, so...who reached out to you?”

Hermione giggled, though Harry supposed it was from his trainwreck of an explanation more than anything else. She did not answer immediately, her attention focused on the teakettle, which she tapped once, steam issuing from the spout, and she poured the hot water into two waiting mugs, before she reached into one of the pantries and pulled out a box of biscuits.

“Luna, Lavender, the Patil twins, and Katie Bell,” Hermione said, listing them off while Harry helped her to carry the two mugs and the biscuits to the sitting room before she continued. “Talking with Lavender was a bit...awkward, but once I asked her not to mention Ron, it’s been nice. I mean, aside from Ginny, I never had too many close female friends, and it’s nice to share with someone...you know?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed with a small smile. “that’s...good. I’m happy for you, Hermione. You deserve some happiness, you know, after everything.”

“So do you,” Hermione countered with a similar smile, while she blew on her tea. “Are things going well with Severus and Draco?”

Harry almost swore aloud as he choked on a biscuit. Did she have to ask that _now_?

“Harry?” she prompted again, her voice still soft and almost un-Hermione-like. “Are you all right?”

“Things...er, could be better,” Harry admitted without looking at her, and instead he focused on his tea, adding milk and sugar, and tried valiantly to ignore the small frown that had begun to tug at the corners of his friend’s mouth.

“Did something happen?” she asked delicately, “something...erm... _bad_?”

“I don’t know,” Harry said with a small groan as he tossed down his teaspoon, splattering milk everywhere in the process. “I’m being stupid, and I know that, but you’ve got enough going on without me adding my problems to it—”

“Oh, really, Harry, don’t be silly,” Hermione said with a soft, impatient huff that made Harry grin a little. She was sounding a bit like her old, know-it-all self. “I’m...well, I’m not _fine_ , but I’m certainly not so unwell that I can’t help you if you’re having a problem. You’re my best friend, and I want you to be happy.” She paused, and sipped her tea before she prompted him by saying, “so, what’s happened?”

“It’s so stupid,” Harry mumbled, still not quite willing to share with her—he didn’t think her weak by any means, but he still didn’t want to lump all his problems onto her like this. “I know I’m being stupid, so really, it’s okay, I don’t need to talk about it.”

“Well, I don’t know how stupid you’re being with this problem of yours, but I can certainly see that right now you’re being stupid,” she teased. “Harry, really, what are friends for, if not to help shoulder their burden? Please, tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.”

“All right, you win,” Harry replied with a weak laugh, shaking his head a little as he spoke. “The short version is I’m being a right bloody idiot, but I don’t know how to get over it.”

“More than usual, you mean?”

“Very funny,” Harry said as he offered her a wry smirk, and she smiled in return. “Yeah, I suppose. I just...I keep getting these jolts of jealousy whenever I see Severus and Draco together, and especially when I see Draco go to Severus for comfort instead of _me_. I hate it. I know I care for them both equally, but this just keeps happening, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Have you thought about discussing this with them?” Hermione asked, and Harry almost laughed out loud.

“And have them think I’m being a complete arse for thinking this way?”

“Harry,” Hermione began, sighing heavily with frustration as she spoke, “of all I’ve read about relationships, the thing that matters most is _communication_. Regardless if you’re in a monogamous relationship or a polyamourous one, you need to open up and _trust_ in your partner...or partners, in this case. If you refuse to talk about it, this resentment will just build, and build, and build until it becomes a major problem in your relationship. I know it’s hard, and I know that I am not the best authority on love, but I do know that you need to talk with Severus and Draco about this before it gets out of control.”

“But what if they decide that I’m not worth it?” Harry blurted out. Then, realizing what he’d said, he flushed a deep crimson. “I—I mean...what if I tell them, and they decide that I’m hardly worth the effort, and tell me to leave?”

“Do you really think they’d do that, after everything you three have gone through together?”

The phrase _you three_ immediately brought Harry’s mind back to Ron, and all that they had gone through together—the good, and the bad. Harry smiled at her sadly.

“Honestly, Hermione? I don’t know,” he said, and she offered him a sad sort of smile in understanding.

 

~*~

 

Draco could not recall the last time he’d felt so happy and content.

As he strolled back towards the cottage with Severus, they each sporting full bags of a variety of herbs, fungi, and stunned insects, Draco almost wanted to skip, but only the fingers intertwined with his own stopped him short.

“Thank you for today, Severus,” Draco said for what was likely the dozenth time. “Especially with my...magical hindrance.”

“You know that Harry or I would get you a wand if we could, but if you used it, you could be arrested,” Severus said patiently. “We have no desire to make you feel as though you are less than us—you aren’t.”

“I know all that,” Draco replied, a frown muddling his joy as he glanced at his companion. “I’m not stupid, Severus, and I can see how hard you’re not trying to...to...restrict me. I do not feel beneath you or Harry. I am just sorry that you had to deal with me fetching things the muggle way all day.”

“Most of these needed to be gathered by hand anyway—interfering magics would ruin my potions,” Severus retorted smoothly. “Or did you forget as much, even after I reminded you at least six times while we were foraging?”

“I...” Draco trailed off as they made it to the cottage’s front door, and he flushed cherry red. “I thought you may have been saying that to make me feel better.”

“Harry is the mollycoddler, not I,” Severus said impatiently in response to Draco’s mumbled answer. “Or did you forget _that_ as well?”

Draco flushed again, but didn’t respond, his embarrassment overwhelming the fun of their banter, and instead he quickly shuffled back into the house. Severus, to his credit, seemed to have realized that he’d gone too far, and caught Draco’s wrist in a gentle grip, stilling his movements just inside the door as he swept in for a tender kiss.

“Are you upset, Draco?” Severus asked, “did I go too far?”

“A little,” Draco admitted with a wince. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so frail, I’m trying—”

Severus cut off Draco’s apologies with another kiss, one which Draco was more than happy to return. When Severus at last pulled back, it left Draco feeling a little dizzy with longing for more.

“No, Draco,” Severus said softly as he traced the contours of Draco’s jaw with his long fingers. “It is I who should apologize. Though I do not hold to the same belief as Harry for how to treat you during the course of your recovery, it was I who went too far in this instance, and for that I am sorry. You deserve to feel safe, not fearful that I might belittle you.”

“I’m not made of glass,” Draco countered, shivering a little with confused longing as Severus continued to stroke his jaw and throat gently. “I can handle a little banter, you just...pushed a little far.” He flushed, and shifted his gaze to glare at the ground. “I don’t mean to be so...so... _soft_. I was never like this before—”

Severus interrupted Draco’s explanation with a tender kiss, his hand moving to the back of Draco’s neck and holding him there, drawing out the kiss and effectively turning Draco’s legs to jelly. He let out a small, needy moan, which confused him as much as it reasserted his longing, and Severus chuckled against his lips.

“You are certainly not soft now, and by that, I mean of course you are a stronger man because of your hardship,” Severus replied, and Draco laughed weakly, though despite the innuendo of the remark, the older man kept his hands respectfully above the waistline. “It would be foolish, I think, for you to expect yourself to revert entirely back to the person you were before, and neither would Harry or myself expect it. We love you regardless of your emotional state, and we will always be there to help you stay afoot. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, I know all that, Severus,” Draco replied with a slightly impatient huff. “You two have been so wonderful, but I _want_ to be my old self again, and I hate that I’m not.”

“And what if you never are?” Severus asked, arching a slender brow at him, and Draco blinked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“If you never revert back to the man you once were, how would that make you feel?”

“I...” Draco trailed off, blinking bemusedly as he stood there and tried to envision such a thing—such a _ridiculous_ thing. Surely with enough time, he would become his old self again, wouldn’t he?

“Draco, you have endured so much, and such things change a man, but not entirely for the worse,” Severus explained, reaching up to touch Draco’s cheek gently before he moved in for another kiss. “It is not a sin to change, and being a little more sensitive than you used to be is not necessarily a bad thing.”

“But I _want_ to be my old self,” Draco protested weakly as he set aside his satchel of potions ingredients to loop his arms around Severus’s neck and tug him closer. “I want it to be like it was before, when I wasn’t afraid of sex, or your insults, or _anything_. I want to reclaim who I was.”

“Your old self does not have the strength that the new you carries,” Severus replied softly, his hand dropping from Draco’s cheek to the small of his back, and he drew him closer. “Loving your new self is just as admirable as reclaiming your old self, Draco. I will love you regardless who you are—you will always be my beautiful boy, you know that. But I fear that fixating upon the loss of who you used to be would do more harm than good, do you understand?”

“I do, I just don’t like it,” Draco replied with a grimace, and sighed as he rested his head against Severus’s shoulder. “I just wish I could snap my fingers and remove what _they_ did to me. I wish I wasn’t this way.”

“I know,” Severus murmured softly as he shifted to press a kiss to Draco’s temple. “And I wish I could take that pain from you. But doing something like that would do more harm than good—you know that.”

“I do,” Draco agreed with another sigh as he straightened up and kissed Severus again. “Come on, let’s get these things put away and get ourselves cleaned up—Harry should be back soon, and I don’t really want to think on this anymore.”

Severus did not object, and followed Draco down to his lab in silence, where together they carefully put away their foraged items. Severus took to the task of casting all the necessary preservation charms as they went along, and thankfully, he did not once press Draco to further _discuss_ their earlier conversation.

 

It took the better part of an hour, but when they returned to the main level of the house, Draco found himself markedly grateful for the sight of the late summer sunshine still filtering in through the kitchen window.

“Maybe potion-making wasn’t my calling, after all,” Draco mused teasingly as he stepped up to the kitchen counter, and gazed out at the forest beyond. Severus stepped up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, but before the older man could ask, Draco began to explain, “the dark and cold of your lab...it felt so confining, and when we got back up here, I felt...freed.”

“It has that effect on most people,” Severus replied, while he leant in to nip gently at Draco’s earlobe, making the younger man laugh. “But it is necessary for certain potions to not be exposed to light during the brewing process—you know that.”

“I do,” Draco said with a short nod. “Maybe I could help you in other ways...by collecting your herbs or something?”

“Or something,” Severus agreed, and chuckled, but before he could ask, Severus added, “you’re beginning to sound like our Harry. Some of your phrasing is becoming remarkably similar to his.”

"I suppose that that is because he more or less taught me to speak again,” Draco replied with a small smile, and turned in Severus’s arms to offer him a kiss. “Speaking of our third party, he should be back soon. Should we have a wash, then start on the promised Afternoon Tea?”

“Hmm...cucumber sandwiches?” Severus asked, and Draco smiled.

“With dill?” he added, and Severus chuckled again.

“I suppose some of your aristocratic airs haven’t truly left you, then?” he asked teasingly, and Draco answered with a smirk.

 

“I’m back!” a voice called from the front of the house, and a moment later Harry stepped into the open-concept dining area with a paper bag in his hand. “I brought—hello.”

Stopping short, he chuckled at the spread of sandwiches and mineral water upon one end of the table, and a gently steaming teapot at the other, with an empty platter for the biscuits.

“We decided for a more formal sit-down,” Draco explained as he stepped over to great him with a kiss. “I made the sandwiches, so you know they’ll be positively to _die_ for.”

“Does that mean I’ll be picking dill fronds out of my sandwich again?” Harry retorted, and Draco let out a cry as though he’d been mortally wounded.

“You _pauper_!” Draco said with mock scathe in his voice. “How can you turn your nose up at my _creations_?”

“Easily,” Harry replied with a chuckle as he stepped back from Draco to set the bakery bag down on the empty plate at the other end of the table. “I just don’t like dill. We’ve been over this.”

“We’ll convert you yet,” Severus added as he swept over to them and bowed forward to kiss Harry deeply. Draco smiled as he watched them; Harry always got particularly starry-eyed when Severus kissed him, as though his breath had been completely stolen away. “Then perhaps we can start making Greek food in earnest.”

“ _More_ dill?” Harry demanded as he wrinkled his nose, though he was grinning at the same time. “I’d sooner _die_.”

Sharing a laugh, the three men moved towards the table and took their usual places. Draco sipped on his water, watching with disgust as Harry used his wand to vanish the dill from his own sandwich before he moved to take a bite, stopping short as he glanced back up to the other two men, and sighed deeply.

“Harry?” Draco prompted, and he felt his stomach flip-flop nervously as he watched Harry carefully set his sandwich back down on his plate with an odd sense of purpose.

“Draco, Severus...” Harry began, his voice heavy as he spoke. “There’s something that I need to tell you.”

 


	31. Confessions and Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Updates are being officially moved to Mondays for the foreseeable future, so the next update will be July 16th. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-One – Confessions and Plans

 

Harry stared down at his sandwich, uncertain how to begin.

Draco was leaning forward in his seat slightly, his eyes wide, while Severus was gazing at him with an arched brow, but neither expression reassured Harry very much that they’d still love him after he came clean. Harry swallowed thickly, and dropped his gaze again. Maybe telling them wasn’t such a good idea, after all.

“Do you plan to tell us what is on your mind any time soon, Harry?” Severus asked at last, and Harry felt himself flush.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled as he flushed a little. “It’s just hard to find the right words.”

“Take your time,” Draco said, and when Harry glanced up, he saw a knowing look glinting in the blond’s eye. _Did he know?_

Harry swallowed thickly, and dropped his gaze back down to his lap. He twisted his fingers together nervously, and with another deep sigh, he pushed forward.

“I...I’m having some trouble with this relationship,” Harry said, and when he glanced back up to the alarmed expressions of his lovers, he felt his face burn at the poor phrasing. “No, I didn’t mean that. I mean...I love you both, I do, but I have some...problems.”

“Jealous problems, you mean?” Draco asked, and Harry’s eyes widened.

“How did you know?” Harry asked, and the blond offered him a small smile, while Severus arched a brow at them.

“It was quite clear that something was bothering you,” Severus added, “you are not as adept at hiding your emotions as you might like to think. What do you feel like you have to be jealous of? What I feel for you is the same as Draco. Surely you know that, Harry.”

“Me too,” Draco added, “I love you and Severus the same.”

“I—I know that,” Harry said as he dropped his gaze again. “I mean, logically, I _do_ know that. But sometimes when I look at you two...I just...I wonder.”

A hand tickled across Harry’s shoulder, and when he glanced up again, he saw Severus gazing at him with an intense stare. The older man’s hand moved from Harry’s shoulder to his cheek, and he stroked his long fingers across his skin, making him shiver a little.

“Look in my eyes, Harry,” Severus commanded, his voice firm and eyes hard. Harry swallowed thickly, his heart thrumming in his chest. Severus sounded like he was about to verify that he had every intention of leaving Harry behind. Reluctantly, he glanced up.

“I want you to _listen_ when I tell you this, Harry,” Severus continued, his fingers curling against Harry’s cheek while his thumb brushed across the slight jut of bone beneath his eye. “I love you, Harry Potter. Nothing could change that. I am aware that I am not the most overt in my affections, nor am I one to say what I am feeling as much as I probably should, but I am saying it now—I _love_ you, Harry. Since this began in earnest, I have never once wavered in my affections for you. Draco is my beautiful boy, but you are _My Harry_. No one could ever replace you. I do not want a monogamous relationship with just Draco, I never have. I want _both_ of you, and that will not change.”

“But what if—” Harry began, but Severus was quick to cut him off.

“No, Harry,” Severus said as he leant in to brush his lips across Harry’s in a tender, feather-light kiss. “We have no plans to leave you behind. If we go somewhere, we have every intention of taking you with us.”

The loud scraping of a chair interrupted their moment. Both Harry and Severus turned to see Draco getting up from the table in a rush before he circled it, and to Harry’s surprise, Draco plopped himself in Harry’s lap and straddled his hips.

Before Harry could ask, Draco leant forward, his arms linked around Harry’s neck, and Draco kissed him hard.

Harry let out a tiny squeak, startled by the sudden show of affection, and his chair wobbled dangerously from the force of it, but Severus was there in an instant, stopping the pair from falling. At the same time, Draco continued to kiss him deeply, his hands moving to the back of Harry’s neck before his fingers disappeared into his hair, and he clung to Harry as though his very life depended on it.

“Don’t you ever leave us,” Draco whispered against Harry’s lips, panting a little as he spoke—though Harry had a feeling that it had little to do with a lack of oxygen during their frenzied snogging. “I love you, Harry. We both do. It’s not right having one without the other.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said softly as he tightened his arms around Draco’s waist and drew him closer. “I don’t mean to feel this way...”

“It’s a normal reaction, you have nothing to apologize for,” Severus said as he moved to rest a hand on the back of Harry’s neck, and offered it a gentle squeeze. “You have only ever had monogamous relationships before us, correct?” Harry nodded. “Then it is not that surprising that you would react this way to our relationship. The best we can do now is try to reassure you that we do want you in our bed and our lives, and neither Draco nor myself would feel complete without you, Harry.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry repeated, his face flushing pink as his gaze flitted from one of his lovers to the other.

“Come,” Severus said, then bowed forward to press a kiss to Harry’s lips, then Draco’s. “Let us eat, then we can discuss how to fix this.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, nodding in agreement as Draco slid off his lap and headed back to his seat, and the moment he sat down, Harry chuckled as he felt a foot hook around his ankle. “Although, I’ve no idea what we could possibly do to make my brain smarten up...”

“We shall think of something,” Severus reassured him as he eased back in his own chair. “It is not something that you need to concern yourself with at the moment.”

_Easy for you to say,_ Harry thought sourly, but knew better than to voice the remark. Instead, he busied himself with his food, and tried to not think about it, which was proving difficult, as he began to wonder if it had been a bad idea to tell Draco and Severus at all.

Harry bit into his sandwich, and heaved a sigh. No answers came to him.

 

Harry had expected Severus or Draco to bring up his confession the moment they’d finished their meal, but as their food came and went, including the biscuits Harry had brought home, neither man mentioned it to him.

As they began to clear up the dishes from their meal, outside thunder began to rumble, and Harry watched as the sky seemed to flash almost impossibly bright in the distance. In between strikes of lightning, he counted until the thunder rolled, trying to gauge how far away the storm was, while he washed their plates, glasses, and teacups by hand.

A pair of warm arms encircled Harry’s waist from behind, and Harry turned a little to see Draco perching his head on Harry’s shoulder, a slow, almost sultry smile upon his face as he asked, “any particular reason why you’re doing that by hand instead of using a charm?”

“It helps me think,” Harry replied with a small smile. “It’s like...sort of a meditation for me.”

“Meditation?” Draco asked, his eyes dropping to the plate Harry was currently washing, and the lightning flashed again, closer this time. “I can’t recall ever feeling that way...at home.”

Harry winced; he knew that Draco was referring to his time in the muggle world, in that dingy flat he’d shared with his parents, and for a moment Harry was quiet, uncertain what to say that wouldn’t sound insensitive or unintentionally cruel.

“Well,” Harry began, setting the plate aside to dry, and he picked up a spoon from the basin. “When I do it, I mean...I got a lot of practice when I lived with the Dursleys, and I could just do it without really thinking about what I was doing, and it made me calm...” Harry trailed off, and laughed weakly. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“If it’s so conductive to thinking, would you like some help, or shall I leave you be?” Draco asked, cocking his head to the side a little. “I could dry while you wash.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry said with a warm chuckle, “though you’d have to let me go if you want to help—I don’t fancy you dripping all over me.”

“Well, then, I’ve changed my mind,” Draco replied as he let out a huff, and squeezed Harry a little more tightly. “I can’t let go of you right now. My arms seem to be frozen in place, at least until your generous body heat defrosts them.”

“Oh?” Harry asked while he fished another plate from the basin, “and how long will that take?”

“How many dishes do you have left?”

“Maybe another ten minutes’ worth.”

“Then my arms will defrost in ten minutes,” Draco proclaimed, and Harry barked a laugh, just as the first drops of rain pattered against the window, and the thunder cracked above them.

Harry smiled to himself and returned to the dishes, while Draco continued to cling to him happily.

 

After he’d finally finished, Harry supposed that they would finally begin to discuss his _issue,_ but once again he was surprised when once again, neither man mentioned it.

Severus was engrossed in a muggle novel when they both stepped out into the sitting room. It was some thick, dull-sounding book called _For Whom the Bell Tolls_. Draco asked him to play chess, and Harry indulged him, though he felt caught between frustration and relief as they settled down to play. It was true that he wasn’t exactly keen to discuss his _issues_ , but at the same time, acting like his confession had never happened seemed like a bad idea to him. He couldn’t see how sweeping it all under the rug would help in the long run.

Although it was a very British way to approach the problem, and Harry couldn’t completely fault them for that.

They played a few rounds until Severus spontaneously asked them both to join him on the sofa to listen to some music, and Harry and Draco settled themselves down on either side of the older man, while he flicked his wand, and summoned what appeared to be an old gramophone, but instead of a needle and turntable, there seemed to be a curious, narrow slot on the front of it. He flicked his wand again, and some sort of chaotic rock began to filter from the horn, and strangely, Draco suddenly went very red.

“Sound familiar, Draco?” Severus asked innocently, and he buried his face in the crook of Severus’s neck with a small groan. “I must admit, I never expected you to take to this sort of music when you left for the muggle world.”

“How did you find out that I like The Adicts?” Draco asked, his voice muffled, while Harry did his best to keep from laughing. Really, imagining someone like _Draco Malfoy_ listening to punk rock was funny, but also made a strange sort of sense, considering everything he went through.

“In your box of belongings that Narcissa forced upon me, there were a few silver records...”

“CDs, Severus,” Draco and Harry corrected at the same time, but the older man ignored them as he continued.

“There were the strangest collection of musicians... _The Adicts, The Misfits, The Germs, The Sex Pistols..._ Really, I thought you had better taste than that, but if you like it, I’m sure I can learn to put up with it.”

“You know, Severus,” Harry said with a slow drawl similar to the older man’s, which made Draco laugh, “most lovers would say something like, “you like this, so I can learn to love it, not _put up with it_.”

“And when have you ever known me to force myself to like something?” Severus asked dryly, and Harry snorted as he and Draco exchanged a look, then settled down on either side of the older man to listen to the album together.

 

Two hours later, after they listened to the same album a couple of times, Severus mentioned something about dinner, before he untangled himself from the two young men and headed for the kitchen.

“So, stew again, is it?” Harry asked as he closed the space between himself and Draco, and the blond smiled as he laid his head in Harry’s lap.

“Probably,” Draco replied with a small chuckle. “I know Severus fancies himself a good cook because he is such an exceptional potioneer, but someone needs to tell him that there are more types of dinnertime foods than stew, roast, and pie...”

“Hmm...maybe I should distract him with my manly wiles, and you can sneak into the kitchen and make something else?” Harry mused as he began to run his fingers through Draco’s hair, and he chuckled again.

“I could do a pasta, or...beef wellington, or something...” Draco replied, his voice thick and drowsy as he relaxed into Harry’s gentle touches, while Harry let out a soft groan of longing.

“I can’t even _remember_ the last time I had beef wellington...you know how to make it?”

“It’s not hard,” Draco replied with a warm chuckle, “just beef and mushrooms in pastry. A cocker spaniel could do it.”

“Ah, yes, but a cocker spaniel would probably eat the meat before it was cooked,” Harry remarked, and Draco laughed again.

“True. I’ll speak with Severus, ask if I can make dinner one of these nights. You can help if you want, but if your cooking skills are anything like your potion-making skills...”

“I’ll have you know that I am not _that_ bad at potions, or cooking. You two just have obscenely high standards in both areas.”

“You two can stop bickering now,” Severus suddenly called from the kitchen, “dinner’s ready.”

Both Harry and Draco laughed at Severus’s word-choice as they peeled themselves off the sofa and headed into the dining room, where, predictably, a pot of stew was set upon a trivet in the centre of the table. Though Harry was sick of stew and pies, he had to admit that it still smelled marvellous, as did the loaf of crusty bread that Severus was carefully cutting into uniform slices on the table next to the pot.

“Smells good,” Harry offered, and Severus cast him a glance out of the corner of his eye before he returned to slicing the bread.

“I try,” Severus replied, “it is no _beef wellington,_ but I suppose it will satisfy.”

“Oh...you heard that, did you?” Draco asked, his cheeks tingeing a faint pink, his hand frozen just above the pot’s ladle.

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly. “Your cooking’s brilliant, Severus.”

“I know,” Severus replied dryly, and offered each young man a wry smirk. It was at that moment that Harry realized something impossible—

Severus was _teasing_ them.

Harry stared at him, at a loss for what to say, and most amusingly, he noted that Draco was doing the exact same thing.

“Severus, are you feeling all right?” Draco asked while he arched a brow at the older man. “I thought you’d sooner die than do something as undignified as _joke_.”

“I’m not some sort of mindless shop-window dummy, you two,” Severus replied as he rolled his eyes, and Harry laughed. “Both of you, be quiet and _eat_.”

 

~*~

 

Draco tucked into his stew, a hearty beef and potato creation with a deep, rich base of red wine, which paired remarkably well with the gale that was raging outside, and warmed his down to his very core. From his vantage point, he could see Severus’s gardens bowing against the storm, and he winced, hoping that the plants would survive it.

He shifted his gaze back to his two companions, and smiled as he watched Harry eat carefully, quietly, save for when Severus or himself would try to engage him in conversation. None of them had said anything about Harry’s confession in several hours, and while the admission had been far from surprising, it had still hurt to hear.

_How_ could Harry even begin to think that Severus and Draco would be happy without him? It didn’t make sense.

_But Harry’s only ever had one partner at a time,_ Draco reminded himself as he picked up his glass of water and sipped on it, his eyes fixed on Harry as he ate. _He doesn’t seem to understand that just because I go to Severus sometimes instead of him doesn’t mean I love him any less. If it weren’t for Harry, I would probably still be a mess right now._

Draco’s mouth twitched into a small frown, and he dropped his gaze as he picked up his bread, and resumed eating.

 

Draco took a turn clearing up after dinner, When he’d finished and stepped out to the sitting room for their nightly cup of tea he saw Severus sitting alone, his book in hand once again, and Harry was nowhere to be seen.

“Harry decided to turn in early,” Severus explained before Draco could ask. “I suppose our teatime discussion wore him out more than he was letting on.”

“He does that a lot,” Draco observed as he headed over to the sofa and stopped at the coffee table to pour himself a cup from the waiting pot. “He never seems to want to tell us what’s going on in that head of his.”

“I suppose it is a quirk from his youth. Those relatives were not kind to him,” Severus replied as he sipped his tea, and Draco sat at his side.

“You know about his relatives?” Draco asked curiously, easing back a little against the upholstery as Severus shrugged faintly.

“Some. Albus tried to tell me of it when you and he were students, but as you can imagine, I had no desire to listen. Later in your tenure at Hogwarts, I learned of it through...shall we say, _other means_ , and to say he was treated badly by them would be a massive understatement. Therefore, I believe that it is a survival technique of some kind, keeping his pain so close to the chest.”

“So would you assume that it was Granger who talked him into sharing today?” Draco asked, and Severus inclined his head once.

“It would appear so,” he agreed. “Although I must admit that I am uncertain what we might do now to convince him that we wish to help him, not hurt him. It is possible that following all his loss as an adolescent, he now fears abandonment on a deeper level than he is consciously aware of.”

“What about...I don’t know, a... _Harry Day?_ ” Draco asked.

“A what day?”

“Harry Day,” Draco repeated. “I’m quite certain that Harry has not seen his godson in months, perhaps we could arrange a visit? Or we could...I don’t know, give him breakfast in bed, or...or...something...”

“Draco,” Severus said softly, “while I am curious to find out how you know about Lupin’s child, I must first ask if you think you’re obligated to engage in sexual acts with Harry in order to cheer him up?”

Draco flushed a deep red and looked away, and despite his reluctance to answer, his reaction seemed to suffice for Severus.

“Draco, doting upon your partner, regardless of the reason, does not mean you must throw yourself into a situation that makes you uncomfortable, or worse—inhibits your progress towards a healthy state of mind. Harry and I will still be here, no matter how long it takes, until you to feel comfortable with sexual activities again. If you never are, that is fine as well—we would not begrudge you for it.”

“I want to get there, though,” Draco protested weakly. “Maybe this is what we need to...I don’t know, jump-start my libido.”

“If this day is for Harry, perhaps now is not the best time to force yourself. We want to make him happy, not feel guilty, correct?”

“Yes, you’re right,” Draco agreed with a heavy sigh. “I just wish I could be better—not just for myself, but for you two as well.”

“We will _always_ be here for you Draco, regardless whether you wish to have sex with us or not,” Severus reminded him patiently. “You know that.”

“I do,” Draco agreed with a vague grimace, “it’s just...frustrating.”

Severus set down his teacup with a soft scraping of china against wood, then gently pried Draco’s own cup from his hands. He then pulled Draco close, and pressed a tender kiss to his lips that made him tremble with longing. He wanted it, but he could not deny that his fear was still distinctly present, and it bubbled just below the surface of his mind, like some sort of unseen undertow.

“If you want to get there, we will get there, in time,” Severus reassured him softly, and gifted the younger man with another toe-curling kiss. “We must be patient, however. There is no sense in forcing yourself to do it—I feel that that will only delay your recovery, not the reverse.”

“I _know_ ,” Draco groused. “We’ve been over this a dozen times, at least.”

“And I will continue to repeat myself until it sinks in,” Severus replied with an edge of annoyance to his voice. “You understand what I am saying, Draco, that much is obvious, but it will be some time before you comprehend it fully, and that is _all right._ I am not frustrated with the speed of your recovery. I would rather have you well than _have you_ , as it were.”

Draco heaved a sigh, recognizing that he was unlikely to win this argument, and laid his head on Severus’s shoulder while he glared at their teacups. Severus’s hand fell to Draco’s hair, and he stroked the locks slowly and methodically, which brought to mind a wildly different thought, and he laughed weakly.

“Have you noticed that both you and Harry seem to enjoy petting me like a cat?” he asked, and Severus huffed a soft laugh.

“Perhaps it is your reward for having an exceptional hair-care routine,” Severus replied dryly, making Draco smile.

“Your hair could be as perfect as mine, you know,” Draco pointed out, “it doesn’t take _much_ to get it this nice.”

“I haven’t time for it,” Severus replied as he rolled his eyes. “I have conquered my greasy scalp that plagued me for most of my life—that is enough.”

“Fine, fine...” Draco rolled his eyes, shifting a little as he refocused his attention back to the issue at hand. “Anyway, I think some sort of Harry Day thing might help, something where we both dote on him, but not so much to make him uncomfortable...he still seems to get a little odd when too much attention is focused on him, have you noticed that?”

“Yes, he reminded us both quite frequently on his birthday that all the attention wasn’t strictly necessary...” Severus mused. “But Lupin’s boy...how do you know of him? That is the only thing that is puzzling me.”

“Well, I knew that Aunt Andromeda’s daughter married Lupin, and when Harry was trying to get me to talk, he’d talk about his godson sometimes, and how it had been so long since he’d seen him, and how he wants me to meet him, and things like that. He’d tell me about all the things little Teddy Lupin did as he grew up, though I was never certain if mentioning his godson was an attempt to get me talking, or to fill the silence.”

“Possibly a little of both,” Severus mused, his fingers still entangled in Draco’s hair. “We can reach out to Andromeda regardless and see if she would be willing to pay us a visit, though I would have to child-proof this house first...”

“Harry and I could do three-side Quidditch,” Draco suggested. “That would keep the child out of the house for when you need a break from him.”

“I like the way you think,” Severus replied with a warm laugh as he leant in to kiss Draco, and Draco happily returned it. Severus pulled him closer until Draco was almost in his lap, and like earlier with Harry, he felt that same shiver of mixed longing and apprehension, but not quite fear—not anymore.

“Come,” Severus murmured softly, before he kissed Draco again. “Let us go and join our lover in sleep, and tomorrow we can make plans for this...Harry Day.”

Their teacups forgotten, Draco and Severus got up, and hand in hand, they went to join Harry.

 


	32. Harry Day, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I just want to note that I am probably going to go over 35 chapters, but since I’m not completely sure by how much, I’m gonna leave the chapter count where it is for now until I know for sure how much longer this story will be. I don’t want to drag it out, but I also don’t want to cut it off too soon. I can say for sure it probably won’t go over 40 chapters, so we’re approaching the end, but we still have a little way’s to go. 
> 
> Anyway, next update will be July 23rd. Enjoy! :)

Chapter Thirty-Two – Harry Day, Part One

 

Ten days after Harry’s confession to Severus and Draco, he woke one Sunday morning, and immediately found that something was vastly different to all the mornings that had preceded it.

Typically when they slept, Harry would lie on the far right side of the bed, with Draco sandwiched between himself and Severus comfortably. Draco would often pillow his cheek against Harry’s chest, and Severus would spoon around the back of him, and it always left Harry feeling slightly giddy as he relaxed into peaceful sleep.

This morning however, Harry found himself to be the proverbial sandwich filling, but more than that, he woke to twin pairs of mouths teasing his lips and throat, with hands caressing his chest and abdomen lightly, but never straying below his waist.

“What...?” Harry croaked as he gazed blearily up at the person who was currently kissing him—Draco. “Wossgoinon?”

“You always were particularly loquacious first thing in the morning,” Draco teased, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“I woke up fifteen seconds ago,” Harry retorted as he stifled a yawn, and shivered a little as he felt Severus run his palm across his stomach. “You’d be confused too of you woke up to this much snogging.”

“You should be grateful that we’re willing to kiss you _at all_ with that morning breath of yours,” Draco replied teasingly, making Harry laugh. He moved to speak, he was impeded from doing so by Severus stealing a kiss of his own, one that made Harry moan feebly, and his cock twitch with interest.

Harry kissed the older man back while he tried to ignore the bottom half of his body. With Draco present, he wasn’t certain how he’d react to the fact that one of his lovers was aroused from the simple act of _kissing_.

Unfortunately with Draco sharing their bed, Harry hadn’t had a proper shag in quite some time. At first, Harry hadn’t minded too much because sharing a bed with _both_ his lovers far outweighed his need for sex—and, of course, he and Severus had taken care of certain _needs_ when Draco was napping or otherwise occupied, so as to keep him from feeling too pressured. After nearly a fortnight of hasty handjobs and less-than-fulfilling oral sex, Harry was beginning to suffer from the lack of proper release, and he let out a feeble whine against Severus’s lips at the knowledge that he’d have to stop far sooner than he would like.

“Best...best end it there, I think...” Harry breathed reluctantly against Severus’s lips, and the older man arched a brow at him.

“Is that what you think?” Severus purred, his hand trailing down Harry’s chest, across his stomach, and stopping just before the elastic of his pyjama bottoms. “Are you certain that that is what we should do, Harry?”

Harry cast a glance to Draco, who was curled up next to them, a sly smile on his face. He didn’t appear unsettled by what was happening, but rather seemed to be brimming with anticipation. Harry’s breath caught, and Draco’s smile widened as he inched closer, and he kissed Harry again.

“Wait,” Harry murmured, and pressed a hand to Draco’s chest, stopping him. “What’s going on? Why are you so...so _okay_ with this?”

“At a certain point, I would be well enough to feel comfortable enough with sex to want to be intimate with you two again,” Draco pointed out as he traced the outline of Harry’s face with his fingers. “Are we making you uncomfortable, Harry?”

“Uncomfortable isn’t exactly the word I’d use...” Harry mumbled, and Draco chortled softly as he leant in for another sweet kiss.

“Today,” Draco began, before kissing him again, “after _much_ discussion between myself and Severus, we are going to show you just how much to mean to us.”

“Because you’ve done so little of that before...” Harry said dryly, and yelped when someone—though he could not tell who—pinched his arse.

“Draco is talking,” Severus said sternly, “you will button it and listen.”

“Yes, _sir_ ,” Harry said sarcastically, and cried out again when his arse was pinched for a second time.

“As I was saying,” Draco continued, “after your confession to us, we took it upon ourselves to construct this special day just for you, to show how much we _need_ you desperately. So shut up, and let us get on with it.”

Draco kissed him again, more fiercely this time, and Harry groaned with both confusion and lust.

“But...but isn’t anticipation the better part of valour?” Harry asked weakly, uncertain how much of Draco’s words were truth or bravado. Severus snorted.

“That is not how that phrase goes, Harry,” Severus said, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“I just mean...” Harry trailed off, his gaze flitting between Draco and Severus. “This is _lovely_ , but isn’t this activity a night-time sort of thing?”

“So what you are saying is that you wish to leave us wanting _all day_ , and then shag ourselves silly tonight?” Draco asked, and Harry laughed a little as he nodded. Though he had expected Draco to be at least somewhat annoyed by this, instead he smirked, gazed up at Severus, and said, “you owe me ten quid.”

“Clearly our Harry is more chivalrous than I expected,” Severus remarked, while his hands began to stroke Harry’s abdomen again, teasing the elastic at his waist, and Harry whimpered with longing.

“He _was_ a Gryffindor,” Draco pointed out. “I told you he wouldn’t go for it the second he woke up.”

“Can you two _please_ stop talking like I’m not here?” Harry demanded, and both men offered him amused smiles as he sat up a little and stared at them both. “What is it this...special day thing? I’ve already had my birthday.”

“Consider this an _unbirthday_ ,” Draco said as he moved in to kiss him again. “You have spent so much time and energy helping me, and now it is our turn to help you. We both love you, Harry, and we want to make sure that you know it.”

“But I _do_ know it.”

“Do you?” Severus asked softly as he moved to sandwich himself on Harry’s other side. “You know it in here,” Severus paused, and brushed his fingers across Harry’s temple, “but you do not believe it in here,” he finished, and moved to press his hand to Harry’s chest, over his heart. “It is understandable, Harry, and neither of us fault you for it. You have systematically lost nearly everyone who you’ve ever been close with, both in your childhood, adolescence, and as recently as a few months ago. You love with all you are, and all that you have; you _cling_ to your loved ones, but your heart still fears being abandoned. What we hope is that today we can show you that Draco and I have no intention of leaving you behind—ever.”

“I—I don’t know what to say,” Harry said as Severus finished speaking, his voice a little thick and croaky with emotion, and the older man’s mouth twitched into a faint smile as he leant in to brush his lips over Harry’s in a feather-light kiss.

“You don’t need to say anything, My Harry,” Severus murmured. “Just allow us to pamper you today.”

 

Harry hadn’t expected much, though he was touched by the thought, he had assumed it would be like his birthday with a fancy breakfast (crêpes with clotted cream and fruit preserves, paired with mimosas this time) and perhaps a walk in the woods. Late in the morning after their rich breakfast however, Harry was given an almighty shock by the soft, but distinct knocking upon their door.

“Who’s that?” Harry asked curiously when no one got up off the sofa to answer it.

“Why don’t you go and see?” Draco asked innocently, his eyes sparkling with excitement, and Severus elbowed him pointedly, as though he was trying to tell him to calm down.

“What are you two up to?” Harry asked with a laugh as he got up from the sofa, though when neither man answered him, he shrugged and moved to open the door.

 

“ _Uncle Harry!_ ”

“ _Oof!_ ”

Harry toppled to the ground with a grunt as the seven-year-old tackled him, and Harry gazed up, Hardly able to believe what he was seeing: his godson with Andromeda in tow, bearing a child-sized broomstick, a wrapped pot, and a smile.

“Hello, Harry,” Andromeda said as Harry slowly got up, supporting the child in his arms, given that Teddy didn’t seem to want to let him go. “Surprised?”

“Very,” Harry replied with a weak laugh. “I never expected...I mean...sorry, come in.”

“Gran said this is your house now, Uncle Harry,” Teddy said excitedly as Harry set him down. “You live with Cousin Draco and Profethor Snip.”

“Professor _Snape_ ,” Harry corrected as he laughed, “but you can call him Severus.”

“Severuth,” Teddy repeated back, testing the word on his tongue, along with his endearing lisp that still refused to go away. “He’s not a profethor anymore?”

“Not since I’ve been here,” Harry replied as he led the pair inside. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Harry led Teddy by the hand with Andromeda following behind farther into the cottage and back to where Severus and Draco were still sitting. Harry felt Teddy’s hand tense in his, while Andromeda stopped at Harry’s other side.

“Teddy, Andromeda,” Harry began, “this is Draco and Severus, my...er...”

“At this point, _husbands_ would not be amiss, and if you call me your _boyfriend_ I might have to hex you, Harry,” Severus said dryly, and Andromeda chortled softly when Harry flushed a deep scarlet.

“How many huthbands does you have, Uncle Harry?” Teddy asked with wide, curious eyes, and Harry flushed again.

“ _Partners_ ,” Harry corrected stiffly. “We’re not married.”

“Yet,” Draco filled in with a small, devious smirk.

 

~*~

 

“It is good to see you again, Aunt Andromeda,” Draco said as he stood up. “Can I help you bring that to the kitchen?”

He motioned to the pot in her hands while Harry turned towards her abruptly and flushed again. This time, it seemed as though the source of his embarrassment was apparently forgetting that she was holding it, and Draco offered his lover a small, warm smile.

“It’s nothing special,” she offered as Draco relieved her first of the broom, which Draco propped against the side of the sofa, then the pot, which was surprisingly much heavier than it looked. “Just a cassoulet that Harry used to enjoy when he would come round to see Teddy, and I thought he might like it.”

“I didn’t realize Harry even knew that cassoulet _was_ ,” Draco remarked as they headed into the kitchen, which earned him an indignant sputter that filtered back to him from the sitting room.

“ _Oi!_ ” Harry called, “ _I heard that!_ ”

Both Draco and Andromeda laughed as Draco set down the pot on the back-burner of the cooker, and he turned to his aunt. In truth he had only seen her once or twice in his life, and never on good terms, given that she had married the muggle, Ted Tonks, well before he had been born.

Now, however, he marvelled at how nice it felt to have that familial connection, and the distinct lack of awkwardness in the air was surprising, but welcome.

“I am surprised how different you seem, Draco,” she remarked softly, and offered him an apologetic smile at her wording before she continued. “You were always quite the mirror-image of your father...what changed?”

“I suppose my time in exile humbled me,” Draco replied evasively, unwilling to discuss his past work with her. “And...Harry and Severus. If it weren’t for them, I’ve no idea where I’d be.”

“Well, I must admit it is nice to see a Malfoy with common sense,” she teased, “those don’t come round very often.”

“Only when the sky turns orange and the grass goes red,” Draco quipped, and Andromeda smiled at him again.

“Quite right,” she replied, and nodded her head. “But you are doing well, Draco. You should be proud.”

“I am proud of Harry and Severus,” Draco replied with a weak smile. “And all that they have given me. I’m just sort of...hanging on.”

“You truly think so little of yourself, Draco?” Andromeda asked, and Draco turned back to her, remembering quite suddenly that he was speaking to someone he barely knew. He flushed, and shook his head a little.

“It doesn’t matter,” Draco said quickly, turning his attention to the cooker, but she stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“Draco, I would say that it _does_ matter,” Andromeda said. “I see you, Draco, and I see how much you have changed—for the better. Even before you said a word to me, I could see the change in you as plain as day, and I will say it if my sister will not: Draco, I am _so_ proud of you.”

Draco felt a knot form in his throat, and he pressed his lips together, swallowing as he tried to calm the sudden surge of emotion.

“I—thank you,” Draco said, his voice thick as he sniffed and rubbed at his burning eyes. “After everything...thank you, Aunt Andromeda.”

“Well, it is good to know you are as comfortable as Harry in emotional situations,” she said with a warm laugh as she shifted back to a less serious tone, and squeezed his arm once before pulling back. “Come, let’s warm this up, and we can feed those boys out there.”

Draco chuckled weakly and nodded, turning to the cooker again, and watched as Andromeda tapped the pot once, reheating the food in an instant.

 

Their lunch was largely uneventful, mostly with Teddy jabbering Harry’s ear off and pointedly not eating his beans, regardless how much coaxing Harry and Andromeda both tried.

Following their meal, Draco was given a surprise of his own, when Harry produced two brooms from their broom shed—Harry’s own Firebolt, and a Nimbus Two Thousand and One.

The latter broom looked brand-new, and Harry’s eyes seemed to glitter with mirth as he handed the broom to Draco, who took it automatically, his eyes wide with shock.

“You can’t give me this,” Draco breathed, and Harry grinned as he stepped up to the blond and offered him a kiss.

“I believe I just did,” Harry retorted, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Hurry up, Uncle Harry and Cousin Draco!” Teddy piped from his own kid-sized broom as he zipped back and forth just above their heads. “No more talking!”

“You heard the man,” Harry said with a sly grin as he clapped Draco on the shoulder. “And this is my day, as I recall you saying this morning, so shut up and enjoy yourself.”

“Fine, fine...” Draco muttered, an amused smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he swung a leg over the broom and kicked off.

Though Draco was somewhat bothered by Harry buying him a broom, which was a curious reaction, given how he’d grown up being handed anything and everything he wanted, he could not deny that it was _wonderful_ to take to the air again, like he’d been reunited with a part of himself that he’d long thought lost.

The wind whipped through Draco’s hair as he flew higher to skim the treetops, and he laughed as he moved a little lower, allowing his feet to just barely brush along the leaves, rustling them, and startling more than one indignant songbird from its perch.

“ _Oi! Viktor Krum!_ ” Harry called teasingly, “ _come back over here so we can play!_ ”

Draco smirked to himself as he turned and saw Harry waving, with Teddy zipping around him in quick circles. Under Harry’s arm was a quaffle, and he never stopped smiling at Draco as he approached.

“Catching Game! Catching Game!” Teddy crowed as he continued to zip about happily, giving Draco a clear indication about what they planned to play.

“All right, if you want to play a catching game, you need to stop zooming round like that!” Harry said with a laugh, and instantly the child flew back over to them, his grin wide, while Harry laughed as the three of them took positions in the back garden.

The catching game began in earnest, with Harry, Draco, and Teddy tossing the quaffle to each other at random. While Harry and Draco were careful to keep their throws to Teddy gentle, the youngster had no such qualms, and whipped the ball at Harry and Draco as hard as he could. It was only thanks to both of their latent seeker skills that they managed to save Severus’s gardens and the back windows of the cottage from Teddy’s throws, though always by an alarmingly small margin.

“With an arm like that, you should try out for your House team when you go to Hogwarts,” Draco teased as he tossed the quaffle back to Teddy, and the boy grinned widely.

“Almost all the Houthes are in my fambly,” Teddy pronounced as he held onto the ball. “Gran tolded me that Mum was a Hufflepuff, Dad was a Gryffindor, and Gran was a Sthlytherin.”

“Which House do you want to be in?” Harry asked as Teddy tossed the quaffle towards him, though much more gently than some of his previous throws.

“I dunno,” Teddy replied as he shrugged. “A nice one.”

_Hufflepuff, then_ , Draco thought with a small smirk as Harry tossed the quaffle to him, and they resumed their game in earnest.

Roughly an hour later, the trio tramped inside after it had begun to rain. They were sweaty and exhausted, but happy—Harry in particular, who could not stop grinning at Teddy, who was happily hanging off his forearm, begging him to continue their play, despite the fact that it was quickly beginning to pour outside.

“After it stops raining!” Harry cried with a protesting laugh, lifting his arms a little, and Teddy shrieked as he hung on, while Harry reached out to clasp Draco’s hand, making his heart flutter as Harry offered him another brilliant smile.

“What’s for tea?” Draco asked as they approached the two older adults, who seemed to have been chatting over twin glasses of scotch, and Severus arched a brow at the three of them.

“Baths,” Severus replied, and Draco blinked at him in confusion. “Or did you not notice that you’re tracking mud all over the house?”

Both Harry and Draco glanced back, and Harry began to laugh as they spotted the trail of muddy footprints that led from the back door and into the sitting room.

“Right, baths it is, then something to eat?” Draco asked hopefully, and Severus offered him a smile and nod.

“Nooooo!” Teddy cried as Harry unceremoniously hefted the boy over his shoulder, and began to carry him towards the hall. “I don’t want a bath!”

“Yes you do,” Harry countered while Teddy kicked his legs, flicking mud onto the floor, walls, ceiling, and Draco’s cheek. “I don’t even know how you’re so dirty, Ted, we weren’t out in the rain that long.”

“You missed the part where he fell off his broom and landed feet-first in that puddle,” Draco quipped as they reached the bathroom, and he stepped forward to turn the faucet of the tub on, while Harry paused to enlarge the basin with his wand before he turned back to Teddy, and began to peel his dirty clothes off.

“You little rascal,” Harry said with an affectionate chuckle, which Teddy ignored as he continued to squirm in a halfhearted bid for freedom.

Harry stripped Teddy completely, while Draco and Harry stripped down to their pants before they slipped into the tub. Immediately Teddy broke wind, and began to giggle at the small eruption of bubbles that broke the surface. Harry laughed, while Draco found himself caught between disgust and amusement at the child’s antics.

“All right, you little demon,” Harry said affectionately as he grabbed the shampoo from the rim of the tub. “You ready to get clean?”

“Uh-uh,” Teddy said as he grinned, and shook his head. “If I get clean, I won’t be allowed to play anymore.”

“We promise you will still get to play,” Harry said with a chuckle, tilting the boy’s head back, and he poured a small measure of the concoction onto Teddy’s head, and suddenly the whole bathroom seemed to be filled with the sweet scent of apples. “But Severus won’t be happy if you get mud on anything else.”

“He’s scary,” Teddy piped while Harry scrubbed at his violet hair. “Like a giant bat.”

Harry snorted while Draco cracked a small smile, and they proceeded with their bath, washing themselves and Teddy alternately, which really was not unlike wrestling a giant squid. Teddy wiggled and squirmed, cackling with delight as he splashed about the huge tub, getting almost as much water on the floor as there was in their bath.

After nearly an hour of wrestling with the child, all three of them left the tub, and Draco dried Teddy off while Harry dried the floor and cleaned their clothes with his wand. They were all wrinkled like a trio of prunes, but despite Teddy’s vehement rejection of the bath, he still looked quite happy as Draco dried his hair, and he poked Draco’s chest with another innocent giggle.

“You have lots of owies,” Teddy said as he traced a hairline scar near Draco’s collarbone. “How come?”

“Oh,” Draco glanced down at himself, then back up to Teddy, and forced a small smile. “I fall down a lot, Teddy. I am very clumsy.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, apparently believing Draco’s bald-faced lie, while he kept his face fixed in a faint smile to keep from alarming the boy, while he pushed back on the surge of painful memories that threatened to overcome him—of men being too rough with him, of his nights and days spent high as a kite, barely coming down, of the doctors who had begged and pleaded with him to check himself into rehab—all of it, to the back of his mind. That was the past, and his present was so good, so much better than anything else, that he refused to allow those negative thoughts to control him again.

“Ready for something to eat, then?” Draco asked, forcing the conversation away from himself, and Teddy beamed as he nodded.

“Uh-huh,” he replied. “Gran says I’m like a hungry monster. I’m _always_ hungry.”

“I’ll bet,” Harry retorted with a chuckle, and waved Teddy over. “Come on, let’s get you dressed, then we can have something to eat.”

“’Kay,” Teddy replied, and giggled as Harry moved to tug the boy’s jumper over his head.

 


	33. Harry Day, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next update will be July 30th. Enjoy!

Chapter Thirty-Three – Harry Day, Part Two

 

The moment Teddy was fully dressed, he darted from the bathroom without a second glance, leaving Draco and Harry alone in their damp undergarments.

Harry looked up, flushing a little, and he tried not to notice the white outline of Draco’s cock through his pants.

He recalled that morning, and the delicious kisses that they’d shared, and how _good_ it had all felt—was Draco truly ready for more than just a simple kiss and tender embraces? Harry almost shivered with anticipation; he wanted it, but he was also terrified of pushing Draco too soon.

As though Draco seemed to know what he was thinking, he offered Harry a coy smile, and inched a little closer.

“Draco—” Harry protested, his voice trembling a little with both lust and uncertainty as Draco moved in, and only stopped when Harry could feel his breath brush across lips.

“Yes, Harry?” Draco asked as he lifted a hand to card it through Harry’s damp hair, and rested the limb upon the back of Harry’s neck, cradling it gently.

“I want you,” Harry said with absolute certainty. “I love you, and I’ve wanted you for ages, and I know that you and Severus had...well, _plans_ for tonight, but are you _certain_ that you’re up for it?”

Draco arched a brow at Harry’s wording, and he scowled at his blond companion.

“You know what I mean,” Harry said with a small huff, and Draco smirked again. When Harry’s frown didn’t fade, Draco seemed to realize that Harry was serious, and his expression softened to a tender smile. He closed the distance between them, and kissed Harry gently.

Draco smelt good, like a refreshing summer rain. His skin felt clean, and carried with it the distinct aroma of the shampoo they had used, and the apple scent clung gently to him. Harry wanted to taste all of him, pulling the blond closer until he was straddling Harry’s lap, but at the same time, it felt strangely _wrong_ to engage in this without Severus.

The first time he made love to Draco, it wouldn’t be right for Severus to be absent.

Harry pulled back at the same moment that Draco did, and Harry took in the beautiful sight of his flushed skin, his shortness of breath, and his glassy eyes—but for once, not with tears.

“I love you, Harry,” Draco breathed, and Harry felt his heart soar.

“I love you too, Draco,” Harry replied just as softly, and Draco smiled at him brightly.

 

When the pair stepped out of the bathroom some fifteen minutes later, dry and fully dressed, it was to two wildly separate sounds, which, in Harry’s mind, should have been mutually exclusive.

Andromeda was laughing so hard that she almost sounded as though she was crying, and Severus was shouting angrily at Teddy. Harry heard no crying, which was curious, and he listened to Severus’s enraged shouts as they echoed throughout the little cottage.

“ _You stop this right now!”_ Severus barked; to Harry, he sounded positively _livid_. “ _Andromeda, do try and control this demon child of yours and make him stop! I mean it, Mr Lupin, I shall count to three, and if you do not cease, you will live to regret it—one, two—”_

At this, Harry’s desire to eavesdrop paled in comparison to protecting Teddy from his lover’s wrath, and Harry and Draco raced into the sitting room. Harry assumed that Teddy must have accidentally broken some sort of priceless artefact of some kind, but when he and Draco appeared upon the scene, Harry nearly fell over laughing.

Sitting upon Severus’s lap, his arms crossed across his chest, was a little Metamorphmagus version of Severus Snape himself, complete with the usual serious look that he almost always bore.

“Sweet Circe,” Draco whispered, just loudly enough for Harry to hear. His voice was strained, as though he was trying very hard to keep from laughing. “Severus might actually murder that child for this.”

“Well, hopefully he’ll just keep shouting, then,” Harry replied between strangled laughs as he stepped up to them, looked and Teddy, and asked, “Teddy, what are you doing?”

“I’ms not Teddy,” Teddy replied in a very serious, deep tone that was clearly supposed to be a mimicry of Severus. “I’ms Theveruth. He thaid that I can’ts look like him, thso I made myself look like him.”

Severus gritted his teeth when Harry snorted, though he could see this getting out of hand very quickly, if the pulsing vein in Severus’s temple was anything to go by.

“Okay, Ted,” Harry said as he ruffled the lank, black hair on the tot’s head. “I think you’re going to make his head explode if you keep this up, and I rather like his head where it is, so could you change back, please?”

“’Kay,” Teddy replied without argument, then screwed up his face, and with a soft _pop!_ he transformed back to his usual self, and grinned impishly at Severus before he turned to Harry and said, “I thinks I understand why you like Theveruth so much, Uncle Harry.”

“Oh yeah?” Harry asked while he sat down next to Severus, and Andromeda got up to move to one of the armchairs, enabling Draco to sit on the older man’s opposite side. “Why’s that, then?”

“He has a comfy lap,” Teddy said, and bounced a little on the tops of Severus’s thighs, as though to prove his point.

“Harry, get this child off of me if you wish for him to see his next birthday,” Severus muttered into Harry’s ear, and he snickered as he turned to Teddy, who offered up another grin, as though he _knew_ that he was driving the older man positively barmy.

“Teddy, why don’t you come and sit over here?” Harry asked as he patted his own knees. “I haven’t seen you in _ages,_ and I want a turn with you.”

“Uh-uh,” Teddy replied as he shook his head, “your knees hurt my pothterior.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco interrupted as he stared at Teddy. “Harry’s knees hurt your _what_?”

“My poth-ter-ior,” Teddy enunciated, “Gran doesn’t like it when I say _bum_.”

Harry glanced over to Andromeda, who was sipping her scotch innocently, and offered up no comment.

“Well...er...well,” Harry winced as he tried to come up with another way to get the boy out of hexing range, “Draco! _He_ wants a turn on Severus’s lap, and he’s quite... _quite_ upset that you’re keeping Severus’s comfy knees all to yourself.”

“I want _what_?” Draco sputtered, his face and neck flaring red.

“Is that true, Cousin Draco?” Teddy asked, his eyes wide as he turned to Draco. “Does your pothterior need Theveruth?”

Harry snorted loudly, and Severus elbowed him sharply, but Teddy did not seem to notice, as Draco’s flush got worse.

“Oh, yes, Ted,” Harry said, his voice strangled as he tried to keep from laughing. “Draco’s bottom really _needs_ Severus.”

“Okay,” Teddy said, and hopped down off of Severus’s knees without protest. “You can has a turn.”

 

~*~

 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Harry asked innocently, “up you get!”

Flushing a deep crimson, Draco climbed into Severus’s lap, his knees perched on either side of the man’s thighs, while he cast Harry a glare as he muttered, “you’ll pay for this, Potter.”

Harry grinned innocently, then turned to pour a glass of pumpkin juice for Teddy, and cups of tea for himself and Draco. Draco eyed the scotch that Severus and Andromeda had been drinking with longing, but knew better than to indulge. Though he’d never been an alcoholic in the strictest sense, drinking only brought back bad memories, which was something that he hardly needed.

“Comfortable?” Severus asked as Draco sipped his tea, and he shot the older man a glare, who smirked softly. Harry snickered into his tea, and he glared at their bespectacled companion.

 

Draco cast a few glances towards Harry as they chatted, who was sitting with Teddy while the boy rested his head against Harry’s shoulder, apparently only half-listening to the conversation. Harry seemed elated to have not only Draco and Severus by his side, but Teddy and Andromeda as well—his family, in Harry’s eyes at least, had truly been united at last.

Draco could not recall Harry ever looking happier, and he brimmed with joy that it had been _his_ idea to arrange this _Harry Day_. Clearly, Harry had needed it—even as Draco sat perched on Severus, Harry showed no outward signs of jealousy, which was a massive leap towards a better mental state from the handful of weeks before when Harry seemed to bristle at any attention that Severus paid him. Now, Draco felt as though he had a better understanding of Harry’s state of mind, and did not fault him for his past behaviour, in particular when it seemed to be improving so much.

 

Despite the pleasantness of their afternoon, Draco could not deny that sitting in Severus’s lap like this was more than a little awkward. Thankfully, an excuse to get up came when Draco proclaimed that he needed to start dinner, and Severus followed when Teddy began to inch towards him. Unfortunately for Severus, little Teddy was happy to follow them into the kitchen. Most amusingly, the child seemed quite enamoured with Severus for some reason, and babbled to the older man happily while Draco began to manually pulled out all the ingredients for their dinner, and as Severus aided him, he pointedly ignored his little violet-haired shadow.

“I have formally decided that I never ever want children,” Severus groused when Teddy had wandered off to use the toilet, before he began to slice the mushrooms that Draco had handed him, while Draco began to unwrap the beef fillets as he waited for the skillet on the cooker to preheat.

“Your tenure at Hogwarts didn’t convince you of that?” Draco asked teasingly, and Severus harrumphed, but didn’t answer. “I think you’d be a good father, and Harry has the patience to deal with kids when you are plotting their murder, while I, of course, would make sure they all had impeccable fashion sense.”

“I highly doubt any one of us will become fathers,” Severus replied stiffly, while Draco placed one of the beef fillets in the pan with a sharp hiss. “Unless one of us spontaneously grows a vagina.”

“Not me,” Draco retorted with a chuckle, “I don’t want to ruin my figure.”

Severus huffed, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh of annoyance, and Draco watched with a small smile as the older man seemed to relax, as though he was relieved that the discussion had not taken a more serious turn.

Draco returned to cooking, smiling to himself while he flipped the meat, before Severus swept up next to him, placing a second pan on one of the other available burners, and began to preheat it while he said, “that little demon-child has been quite a while...do you think he fell in?”

At the same moment, they heard a shriek of delight, followed by Harry’s laugh, and Draco smirked at Severus as he replied, “I believe Harry is saving you from him as we speak.”

“A true hero among men,” Severus said with a wry smirk, and Draco snorted with laughter.

 

When Draco called Harry, Teddy, and Andromeda for dinner an hour later, Harry barked a laugh as he saw what had been laid out on the table.

“You remembered!” Harry cried as he plopped down in his usual seat, and gazed at the elegant little beef wellingtons on the table with a look of unrivalled joy upon his face. Severus smirked at Harry’s reaction as he began to pour glasses of wine for everyone—except Draco and Teddy—while Draco chuckled warmly at Harry’s almost childlike joy upon seeing their dinner.

“Of course we remembered,” Draco replied as he leant in to kiss Harry’s cheek, while Severus swept in for a kiss of his own, which made Andromeda titter with amusement, while Teddy made distinct sounds of disgust at the small display.

“Grownups always _kiss_ ,” Teddy complained, his nose wrinkled. “It’s icky.”

“You might not think it’s so icky when you grow up,” Harry pointed out, and the boy shook his head fervently.

“Uh-uh,” he replied stubbornly. “Kissing will be icky _forever_.”

“Leave it,” Draco advised Harry, and sipped his mineral water. “Maybe Teddy will never want to kiss someone, that’s as fine as having more than one spouse.”

“When did you get so open-minded?” Harry teased as he nudged Draco’s knee under the small table, and Draco offered Harry a wry smirk, but didn’t answer as they all tucked in to their meals.

 

They rounded off their dinner (which Teddy mostly ate without complaint, save for the mushrooms) with a sumptuous chocolate torte that Severus had made himself, and it had been dredged in bittersweet chocolate ganache that made Draco want to simply _die_ from how good it was.

“Oh merciful goddess,” Draco moaned as he took another bite of his slice. “Severus, forget potions, just become a pastry chef. This is _masterful_.”

“This chocolate tastes weird,” Teddy complained as he scraped the ganache off his own slice, and ate the torte instead. “It’s _thour_. Theveruth, did you chocolate is supposed to be thweet?”

“It’s bittersweet chocolate, Ted,” Harry said as he offered him a smile. “Severus and Draco think they’re better than us because they like chocolate that tastes like dirt.”

“It does not taste like _dirt_ ,” Draco snapped, though he was smiling as he said it. “We do not need the cloying sweetness of cream and sugar in order to enjoy chocolate, thank you.”

Harry snorted derisively while Teddy looked on with confusion, and Severus sipped his coffee without a word.

“Dark chocolate is best in contrasts,” Andromeda said conversationally. “Paired with red wine, or sweet biscuits, or as a topping for sweet cake. It’s not everyone’s preference though.”

“Everyone has their preferred flavours, exactly,” Draco said, and smirked when Harry chuckled at the double entendre. “Myself, I like my chocolate tall, dark, and bitter...” he glanced to Severus, who scowled a little, then to Harry as he added, “but I also fancy small servings of chocolate that is dark and sweet.”

Harry flushed and rolled his eyes, while Andromeda chortled again at their banter.

“I find that I prefer chocolate that is dark and sweet as well,” Severus added as he glanced to Harry, whose flush deepened at the older man’s words. “But I am not above enjoying a white chocolate truffle, perhaps with a deep, dark centre.”

“What about white chocolate truffles with a centre that _looks_ dark upon first inspection, but is actually amazingly sweet?” Harry asked coyly as he grinned at Draco, whose face tinged pink at the compliment. “Or...” his glaze flitted to Severus, “chocolates with a certain _spice_ to them? Unique, but not bitter or unpleasant. Just the right amount of kick to make you feel tingly all over.”

“Gran?” Teddy whispered in a tone not much lower than his usual voice, “are they still talking about chocolate?”

“Of course they are, Teddy,” Andromeda said stiffly as she eyed the three men with an accusing eye. “They’re just acting silly because they need to have their naps...or perhaps a cold shower?”

She arched a brow pointedly as she glanced from Harry, to Draco, then at last to Severus, and all three had the good grace to flush at her thinly veiled admonishment—even Severus, whose face had gained a faintly pink tint as he avoided her eye.

 

After their accidental albeit metaphorical flirting session over pudding, Draco had rather lost his will to chat with Andromeda, too embarrassed to offer much in the way of conversation. Harry seemed to be feeling similarly, but Severus engaged her in talk as though he wasn’t bothered by her reprimand, and discussed everything from his business as a private potioneer, to her own freelance work as an artist, and how their respective gardens had been doing that season.

Teddy gazed on at the adults with a glazed-over look in his eye, blinking hard as the boy tried to stay awake through the dull grownup talk. He fiddled with a hole in his denims, until Harry seemed to notice his boredom, and invited him off to play, which Teddy eagerly agreed to before taking off down the hall with his godfather.

The moment he’d gone, Andromeda’s genial tone disappeared, and her expression hardened as she levelled her gaze with both Draco and Severus.

Draco stared back bemusedly, uncertain what had sparked the look. He debated the benefits of asking or waiting to see what she might say, but Severus got there first as he said, “is there something on your mind, Andromeda?”

“I would like you to know—both of you—that while I do not protest Harry’s relationship with you both from a moral standpoint, I wish to remind you that Harry is my only family,” she said, her voice firm and icy, as though she was daring them to contradict her.

“He is Teddy’s godfather,” she continued, her voice still firm and unwavering, “and as close to family as I have left, besides my grandson.”

“Then what do you protest?” Draco ventured, and he stiffened when she shifted her cold stare to him.

Draco did not feel shocked that she was unperturbed by their three-person relationship; he, like his aunt, had grown up learning pureblood customs, and triad marriages, while not common, were still accepted and encouraged. However, her stone-cold demeanour was still unsettling, and Draco felt very much like a climber who could not find a safe foothold—he had no idea what to say. He was unaccustomed to this feeling of uncertainty, and he glanced to Severus for guidance, but the man had concealed his emotions behind a blank mask of neutrality. Draco looked back to Andromeda as she resumed speaking.

“Neither of you have been Harry’s greatest supporters in the past, and I wish to know why you have now chosen to be with him,” she said coolly, her eyes flicking from one man to the other as she spoke. “Though Harry seems to be perfectly happy and content with both of you, I have known him to _make the best of a bad situation_ before, and I want to ensure that you both are treating him decently.” Draco frowned a little at her accusation, but Severus spoke before he had a chance to.

“We were brought together from our situation,” Severus said, his tone just as icy, and Draco could sense that, like him, the older man had taken deep offence to Andromeda’s veiled accusation that they were somehow coercing Harry into the relationship. “Draco had found himself in a less-than-favourable predicament, and I felt that Harry was to blame for what had become of him. When we finally rescued Draco and brought him here to recover, feelings between the three of us grew naturally, and without any sort of emotional trapping, I assure you.”

“I am very grateful to Harry and Severus for all they did for me, and in the process, found myself in love,” Draco added, flushing a little at his own words while he dropped his gaze to his lap. “Since my reunion with them, I have never wished any sort of ill will on Harry, or on Severus. What began as gratitude turned into deep affection for them both.”

Andromeda’s hardened expression did not immediately fall as she glanced from Draco to Severus and back again, as though trying to gauge whether they were telling the truth. The look made Draco nervous, and he shifted uncomfortably, while Severus reached across to take his hand, squeezing it gently in silent support. Draco relaxed a little, while Andromeda, at last, offered them a soft smile.

“All right, I believe you,” she said, “but know that if you hurt him, you will have to answer to _me_ , understand?”

“Yes,” both men replied at the same time, and Draco watched with relief as Andromeda’s stern expression relaxed into a warm, motherly smile, at last devoid of any mistrust.

“Good,” she replied as she stood up, and both Draco and Severus followed suit. “Well, now that that is settled, I suppose I should gather up my grandson and head home. It is nearly bedtime for him, and I imagine that you have a rather big night planned for your third party.”

She winked, and Severus merely smirked in response, while Draco glanced away, a flush rising in his cheeks.

The older woman turned to head down the hall to collect her grandson, and as she did so, Severus snaked an arm around Draco’s waist. He kissed Draco’s temple once, before he moved to trace the shell of the younger man’s ear with his wicked tongue, and Draco shivered a little as he bit back a moan of longing.

“Soon, my Beautiful Boy,” Severus murmured softly. “Soon we shall show Harry what he truly means to us, and I will ensure that you love every sweet second of it.”

Draco let out a soft, nearly indiscernible whine as he turned to the older man, and kissed him deeply. Severus pulled him closer, drawing out the kiss, while distantly, Draco heard a despairing cry from Teddy.

At last, they would be able to show Harry how loved and needed he truly was, and Draco could hardly wait.

 


	34. Harry Day, Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So...I lied. ^^; sorry. This is technically the last chapter, and next week on August 6th I’ll be posting the epilogue. Enjoy! :D I had fully intended to make this a bit longer, but things fell into place more quickly than I had previously anticipated, so that’s why there was that mixup of how long this story would turn out to be.

Chapter Thirty-Four – Harry Day, Part Three

 

Harry stood at the door, chuckling as he embraced a tearful Teddy, which was made rather difficult by the twin pairs of bedroom eyes boring into his back as he tried to console his godson.

“I don’t wants to go,” Teddy protested as he hugged Harry tightly, “I wants to sthay!”

I promise I’ll come visit soon,” Harry said with a soft chuckle as he gave the boy another gentle squeeze. “I mean it. I won’t disappear again.”

“Tomorrow?” Teddy asked, and Harry laughed again.

“Soon,” Harry repeated, and held out his pinkie to Teddy, who stared at it bemusedly for a moment, before Harry gently took the boy’s hand, uncurled his little pinkie finger, and hooked it around his own as he said, “Earth, Water, Sea, Air, I declare a pinkie swear!”

This led to a number of blank looks directed at Harry, but he ignored them as he continued to focus his attention on Teddy as he explained, “that’s a super-special promise, Ted, and it means I _promise_ to come and see you soon. All right?”

“Okay,” Teddy replied with another feeble sniff before he threw his arms around Harry’s neck, and hugged him tightly. “You promised, Uncle Harry, and you keep _all_ your promises...right?”

“Of course, Teddy,” Harry replied as he hugged him back. “I _will_ come and see you soon, and if you’re a good boy for your gran, I might even bring Severus along so you can sit on him.”

Teddy let out a cheer at the same moment that Severus let out a sputtering vocalization of refusal. Harry grinned to himself before he offered the boy one last gentle squeeze, and straightened up. Immediately, Andromeda drew him into a tight, motherly hug.

“You will always have a place in our lives, Harry,” Andromeda murmured into his ear, and squeezed him more tightly as she spoke. “Remember that.”

Harry felt a lump form in his throat as he nodded and hugged her back, at a loss for what to say that would accurately encompass all of what he was feeling. She seemed to understand however, and rubbed his back gently in tender comfort.

Neither of his lovers spoke throughout the exchange, for which Harry was grateful. He needed this moment, to know someone outside his relationship with the two men cared—he needed a _mother_.

Harry hadn’t quite expected it to find it in Andromeda, but he was glad that he did.

“Thank you,” Harry whispered to her, and when she pulled back, she offered him a warm, loving smile.

Harry stepped back, and while Draco and Severus bid their goodbyes to Andromeda, Teddy rushed in for another hug from Harry. The boy refused to look at him as he clung to his godfather, but Harry caught the shine of unshed tears in his eyes, telling him that Teddy was trying hard to be a _big boy_ and not cry at the prospect of saying goodbye to Harry for the day.

Still sniffling, Teddy took his grandmother’s hand, and with a drooped head, he followed her lead out of the cottage’s front door. They meandered down the walkway and beyond the house’s warding with Teddy never once looking back, before they both disappeared in a flash of blue from a Portkey that Harry could not see from his vantage point.

Immediately following their departure, a pair of slight, warm arms encircled Harry’s waist, and Draco’s lips found the nape of his neck.

“Ready to round off your Harry Day, love?” Draco purred, and the sinful tone of the blond’s voice made Harry shiver. He turned around in Draco’s arms, and cradled his cheek as he moved in to kiss him lightly, then glanced to Severus, who touched the back of both Harry and Draco’s necks, then leant in to kiss each young man lightly upon the lips. Harry shivered with longing, even as he cast a glance of concern towards Draco, who responded to the look with an annoyed glare. Though Harry wanted to ask once more, _Draco, are you sure about this?_ The expression upon his lover’s face seemed to give him the answer, and he thought better than to ask.

“Hmm...” Harry intoned as he glanced from Draco to Severus, and back again. “I _am_ craving a sandwich...but am I the bread or the filling?”

“Which would you _like_ to be?” Severus asked, his voice a low, melodious purr, while Draco bit his lip, as though he was trying to resist speaking in Harry’s stead.

Harry smirked to himself, lifting his hand to squeeze the back of Severus’s neck, and he pulled the older man in for a kiss, while Draco, unwilling to be left out, wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, and began to plant wet kisses along his throat. Harry moaned feebly, which elicited a warm chuckle from the older man.

“The sandwich filling, definitely,” Harry breathed, while his other hand moved to the back of Draco’s neck before it disappeared into his silky hair, and turned to offer Draco a similar kiss, making the blond moan while Severus snaked an arm around Harry’s waist, and began to massage his cock through his trousers. “Draco...I want to fuck you while Severus fucks me...how does that sound?”

Draco groaned his assent as he dragged Harry in for another kiss, his tongue diving into his mouth and caressing along Harry’s in expertly tantalizing swipes. Severus pressed his mouth to the hollow of Harry’s throat and sucked gently, while he popped open the top button of his jeans, and Harry shuddered as the older man’s hand snaked into his trousers almost infuriatingly slowly.

“Bedroom...” Harry panted as he pulled back briefly from Draco’s mouth, and the blond kissed him again as Harry hissed, “ _now_.”

Severus chuckled from behind him as he slipped the hand out of Harry’s trousers, and with one fluid motion swept Harry into his arms like some sort of fair damsel. He yelped, and cast a mock glare at the older man while Draco laughed as he led them way from the entryway and towards the bedroom. He glanced back often to shoot Harry with a sweet, disarming smile that promised that he was ready— _more_ than ready for tonight’s activities to begin.

The older man set Harry down the moment they’d crossed into the bedroom, and Draco all but jumped into Severus’s arms, crushing his lips against the older man’s in a needy kiss.

Harry watched them together, the beautiful melding of light and dark, and he paused, waiting for that unpleasantly familiar sensation of his stomach being replaced by a bubbling jealousy, but it never came. Harry’s smile broadened as he reached down to palm himself through his trousers, and instead of focusing on his emotions, he instead fixed his attention upon how damnably good Draco and Severus looked together, and how grateful he was that he was a part of it, rather than just a mere spectator.

“I think we are forgetting someone on his special day,” Draco said coyly as he broke the kiss, and turned a little as reached an arm out for Harry, and he smiled at his lovers broadly.

Harry went to them without a word of protest, and shivered when Draco moved in to kiss him, while Severus eased him out of his trainers and socks, before dropping Harry’s jeans to the floor.

“Gods above, Harry...” Draco breathed, “you are _so_ beautiful...”

Harry didn’t know what to say, but he was quickly relieved of answering when Draco kissed him again, before he heard a murmured spell from Severus, and shivered as his shirt was removed magically, but his pants were left in place.

Severus kissed the nape of Harry’s neck, his long arms coiling around Harry’s waist, while Draco pulled back from Harry’s flushed lips to kiss Severus over his shoulder, and Harry shuddered with longing as he watched their mouths come together, squishing his body between them, just as he felt twin erections press against both his stomach and arse at the same time.

Harry groaned, rotating his hips in an effort to grind into both cocks at once, and it seemed as though he succeeded when Draco let out a tiny moan, and Severus a soft hiss.

Severus broke away from Draco with something close to a growl, and devoured Harry’s mouth in a heated kiss. Harry turned to him more fully to return it, and shivered when he felt a pair of hands hook into the elastic of his pants, and he began to tug the garment down.

Harry kicked off his underwear absentmindedly while his hands fell to the collar of Severus’s robes. He began to thumb open the ridiculous trail of buttons while he continued to kiss the older man, but jumped in surprise when he felt the light sting of teeth on his left buttock, and both of his lovers chuckled warmly.

“Severus, could you?” Draco asked in a small, almost childlike tone of voice, and the older man smirked as he pulled back from Harry’s mouth, and flicked his wand at Harry, making him shudder as he felt a cleansing charm tickle its way through his arse.

“Gods above, I love magic,” Draco purred, not three seconds before Harry let out a soft cry of both surprise and pleasure as Draco dove forward, and snaked his tongue into his arse.

Harry’s knees quaked as Draco rested his palms against Harry’s cheeks, spreading him more open, and his head fell back as Severus’s lips deviated from his mouth and trailed along his jaw, before he stopped at his ear, but far from whisper something sexy, Severus’s voice was soft, but urgent.

“ _Whatever you do, do not ask him to suck you, understand?_ ”

Harry jerked back a little, startled by the urgency behind the words, but at the same time, the tongue in his arse was making it difficult to focus. Severus’s gaze was hard, not even the vaguest hint of teasing in the expression, and suddenly Harry understood— _triggers._

Harry nodded, his motion just slight enough that Draco wasn’t likely to notice, and Severus’s expression relaxed a little into a playful smirk as he drew Harry in for another kiss. His hands once more fell to the buttons on Severus’s robes, and he returned to the arduous task of relieving the older man of his clothing.

Harry broke away from their feverish kissing with a hiss of frustration, grumbling about buttons, while Severus chuckled, and Harry shivered as he felt Draco’s sinful tongue slip from his arse, and Severus pointed his wand over Harry’s shoulder, though he felt no magic course through him, and he assumed that Severus had directed something at Draco instead.

A moment later he understood as he felt a kiss press to his spine, the well-practised lips gently trailing upwards while a slick finger teased his entrance, and Harry groaned.

“Y-you two are going to be the _death_ of me...” Harry muttered as he turned to Draco, and the blond smirked as he cradled Harry’s cheek with his free hand, and pressed a warm kiss to his mouth.

“Better a naked and sexy death than some of the alternatives, wouldn’t you say?” Draco purred, and both Harry and Severus laughed.

“Speaking of naked...” Harry mused as he pressed a hand to Draco’s chest, and began to tease the buttons upon his shirt, and the blond chuckled. “What is it with you two and _buttons_? Is it a Slytherin thing?”

“Yes,” Severus replied dryly, and Harry turned back in time to see the older man roll his eyes. “One of the Slytherin prerequisites is an affinity for clothing with buttons.”

“Trade secrets, Severus!” Draco cried with false horror, which made Harry laugh. “You’ll be voted out of the club.”

Harry continued to giggle as he unbuttoned the rest of Draco’s shirt, though thankfully it had significantly less buttons than Severus’s robes, and he pushed the shirt off Draco’s shoulders, revealing his beautiful, fair chest.

Harry’s lips fell to Draco’s collarbone, and the blond groaned, his arms falling lax at his sides, and the sole finger slipped from Harry’s arse as Harry gave Draco his full attention, his tongue laving over the hairline scars, and trailing slowly down to his right nipple, while at his back he felt Severus, now shirtless, press against him, sandwiching him deliciously between two hot bodies.

“Harry...” Draco breathed, the single name on his tongue little more than a blissful sigh, and he tilted his head back, letting out a soft moan as Harry teased the little blushing bud with his tongue, while at his back Severus had picked up where Draco had left off. He toyed with Harry’s entrance, using two fingers instead of one, and Harry shuddered as he tried to keep his legs from giving out under him.

“I think it might be best to move this to the bed, what do you two say?” Severus purred, his free arm winding around Harry’s waist, while he pressed his front to Harry’s back, forcing him to stay standing, and simultaneously driving his fingers deeper into Harry, causing him to groan.

“Yes,” Harry breathed, one arm reaching up and behind him to hook around Severus’s neck and pull him into a rough, awkward kiss, while the other looped around Draco’s waist, and pulled him flush against Harry’s chest.

“Harry...” Draco murmured, his voice a little hoarse, “if you want us to actually _move_ to the bed, you’ll need to let us go...”

“Oh, right,” Harry muttered, untangling himself from his two lovers as he flushed, and they both chuckled, while Draco nudged Harry towards the bed, apparently unaware that Severus’s pointer and middle fingers were still buried to the hilt inside of Harry, and he yelped as they were abruptly yanked out.

Draco didn’t apologize, but instead shoved Harry down playfully onto the bed, and kissed him once before he said, “let us give you a show,” and stood back up to stand next to Severus.

Both men were still clothed from the waist down, and they offered each other a smirk before in eerie sync they unclasped the top buttons of their trousers, and slowly peeled them down.

Harry bit his lip as he watched, his cock beginning to positively _ache_ with longing as they kicked away the garments, then turned to each other to discard their undergarments, both smiling in a way that Harry had not seen in months—if ever. It was expressions of love that he saw on their faces—perfect and yet simple, all-encompassing and yet infinitesimally small, and it made Harry want to weep and cry out with joy all at once.

When his lovers at last approached him, they each gave him a tender kiss before they joined him on the bed, and Harry noted the faintest flicker of nervousness in Draco’s eyes.

Without thinking, Harry drew Draco into another kiss. He cradled the blond’s cheek, drawing the kiss out, while Severus sat at his other side and pressed a kiss to Harry’s shoulder, but otherwise did not interrupt the show of affection. Harry supposed that, like him, he knew that Draco needed this reassurance.

 

~*~

 

“So, how do you want to do this?” Harry murmured, his breath tickling over Draco’s kiss-damp lips, and he shivered a little. Draco wanted this, he knew that he did, but he couldn’t help but feel a little nervous too. Months before, he dimly recalled Severus warning him that his mind may not see the distinction between a positive sexual experience and a negative one, and now he understood that warning better than ever.

“I...I need to see you,” Draco breathed as he reached up to touch Harry’s cheek. “I need to know it’s you— _both_ of you.”

“We will not hurt you, Draco,” Severus added as he stood and circled to Draco’s opposite side, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “But remember, if you need to stop for any reason, you just need to tell us so. Neither of us will be cross.”

“He’s right,” Harry added with a small, reassuring smile. “Regardless if it’s this _Harry Day_ thing you’re so keen on, or the Queen’s birthday, or whatever else, if you say stop, I won’t feel cheated. I want you to feel safe and loved, not like you’re obligated to sleep with us, all right?”

Draco nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he was overwhelmed by what he was feeling for the two men that sat on either side of him. It was a deep, whole love that Draco had never expected to feel, and it very nearly brought tears to his eyes as he realized just how truly lucky he was to share his life with not one, but _two_ wonderful men.

“Okay,” Draco said as he nodded, kissing them both before he shimmied farther up the bed, until he was resting in his usual sleeping spot, with his head perched against his pillow. He motioned for Harry to come closer, and he obeyed, crawling towards him with a jumble of emotions in his vibrant eyes—concern, anticipation, love, fear—how was it that one person could feel so many things at once?

Draco gently removed Harry’s glasses, and set them on one of the bedside tables before he moved Harry like a marionette, making him straddle Draco’s hips before he drew his knees up, they bracketing Harry’s waist when they fell open slightly, exposing himself to Harry fully.

“I want you to take me like this, while Severus takes you from behind,” Draco breathed, panting now more with lust than anything else as Harry gazed down at him. “Does that sound good to you?”

“Anything with you and Severus sounds brilliant,” Harry replied with a slightly lopsided grin, which caused Draco to huff with amusement. “Does it sound good to _you_?”

“Yes,” Draco replied, his voice soft but sure. Harry smiled, and moved in to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I’ll make this good for you, Draco,” Harry promised as he sat back a little, easing himself into Severus’s arms as the older man gazed down at Draco from over Harry’s shoulder, “ _We’ll_ make this _so_ good for you.”

Draco reached out, one hand falling to cover Harry’s, while the other twined with Severus’s. He wanted to tell them both how much he trusted them, but the words wouldn’t come. The sentiment felt feeble compared to the overwhelming sensation of safety and love that had settled in his chest, but thankfully both men seemed to understand, and they smiled at Draco warmly.

Harry leant forward again, kissing Draco gently while he shifted him into a better position, moving him like a marionette, but gently, as though waiting to see if Draco was truly okay with what was happening before he proceeded. Draco, far from feeling fear, followed Harry’s lead willingly, his nervousness slowly being eclipsed by excitement, his kisses becoming more feverish as he reached for Harry, closed a hand around the brunet’s wrist, and guided his right hand to Draco’s waiting entrance.

“Draco, are you sure?” Harry breathed, and Draco immediately nodded as he spread his legs a little wider.

“Please...” he begged, and watched as Severus murmured something into Harry’s ear, though too softly for Draco to overhear. He supposed it was an encouragement of some kind, given that Harry nodded, waved his wand at his hand to lubricate one of his fingers, then lowered himself down a little as he slowly slid the digit into him.

Draco groaned, his head tilting back against the pillows as Harry slowly inched into him. Harry bowed forward and kissed the side of his chest, given that his position made it impossible to kiss his lips, but Draco appreciated the sentiment all the same. He nodded to indicate that he wasn’t hurt, and Harry slid his finger in farther, until it was buried up to the knuckle.

“God, I forgot how good this could feel...” Draco breathed, and Harry cracked a small, knowing grin in response.

“Oh, just you wait, love,” Harry purred as he kissed the side of his chest again. “We’re gonna make you feel _amazing_.”

Draco fought the urge to laugh at the cheesy line, and instead let out a soft moan as Harry added a second finger, stretching him thoroughly, but gently, while Severus continued to murmur into Harry’s ear, though whether it was sweet nothings or instructions, Draco couldn’t tell.

“Ready, love?” Harry asked after a few moments, and Draco nodded fervently.

“Yes,” Draco replied softly, his chest heaving with anticipation as he gazed up at him. “ _Please_ , Harry...”

Smiling, Harry slowly withdrew his fingers, and positioned the tip of his delicious cock at the entrance of Draco’s prepared hole.

Draco bit his lip as he waited for Harry to get on with it. Harry wasn’t exactly small, but he wasn’t as large as Severus was, either. To Draco, Harry’s cock seemed perfect, and he was positively _aching_ for Harry to get on with it.

When Draco was on the cusp of begging Harry to get a move on, he pressed the head of his cock to Draco’s hole, and with a blissful sigh, he sank into him.

Draco let out a moan, tears of joy coming to his eyes as Harry moved, but before Harry was given the opportunity to notice the reaction, Draco dragged him into a kiss, clinging to him almost desperately until Harry was fully sheathed inside him, and he clenched around the brunet’s delicious cock, as though trying to hold it in place.

The action made Harry let out a long moan, which was quickly replaced by a laugh as he pecked Draco’s lips once before he murmured, “if you keep clenching around me like that, this’ll be over before it’s really begun.”

“I have to agree with Harry,” drawled Severus, which made Draco giggle a little. “I would like to complete our sandwich _before_ you make him orgasm, thank you.”

Both Harry and Draco laughed, both sounds turning into groans of pleasure as Severus shifted, and Draco felt Harry drive into him a little more deeply as Severus pressed himself into Harry, effectively squishing him between their two bodies. The look on the Harry’s face was nothing short of bliss, and it brought another broad smile to Draco’s face.

“Oh _God_ ,” Harry groaned, tilting his head back, then forward, as though uncertain which of his lovers he wanted to pay attention to first. “That’s...that’s... _incredible_...”

“Just wait, Harry,” Severus purred, a smirk of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, “we’ve barely even started. There is _much_ more to come...”

“Any more and I might explode,” Harry retorted, and grinned when Severus hushed him.

“Just follow my lead,” Severus instructed, his large hands falling to Harry’s hips, and Draco groaned as Severus guided Harry to pull out at the same time that Severus did, and then thrust back in, making Draco shudder as he reached up to grip the slats of the bed’s headboard, while both of his lovers let out soft, pleasure-filled grunts of their own.

It was maddening and yet wonderful. The pacing was awkward at first as both Harry and Severus fell slowly into sync with one another, while Draco gyrated his hips, accepting Harry into his body with fluid motions, clenching and unclenching as needed to send him well beyond simple pleasure, and into a near-transcendent state. Given how vocal Harry was during sex, it didn’t take much for him to cry out his pleasure. His eyes rolled up in his head as he at last found a steady rhythm with the two men, and they were able to speed up their movements, making the bed jerk, while their voices echoed throughout the room with abandon.

It was Harry who shuddered and found his release first, filling Draco’s arse with a few hot spurts of his seed. Draco could feel how Harry’s muscles had relaxed, and he became as soft as a down-filled pillow. However, he did not stop moving as he reached down, stroking Draco as Severus continued to batter his arse, and with a grunt, Severus came next, lurching forward to bite at the hollow of Harry’s throat as his body stilled, signalling his release.

Abruptly, Harry pulled his softened cock out of the confines of Draco’s arse, and Draco let out a whine of discontent as he gazed up at his two lovers, for he had not orgasmed yet. However, the moment he’d vocalized the protest, he realized belatedly that Harry and Severus were not about to let him go unsatisfied, as both men shifted upon the bed until they were side by side.

Draco tensed unwillingly, the position of his lovers reminding him of his formative prostitution days, but instead of bearing down on him like a pair of predators, both men lowered their mouths onto Draco’s cock, licking and sucking it alternately, while Draco let out a high keen of pleasure at the feeling of _two_ mouths on such a sensitive area of his body, and in an almost embarrassingly short amount of time, he found his release, painting Harry’s cheek with a stripe of cum, which made the brunet laugh, and his grin widened when Severus leant in without hesitation, and licked it away.

Harry giggled, a broad smile spreading across his lips as he stretched out next to Draco and drew him close. Severus laid down on Draco’s opposite side, both men’s arms draping lazily across Draco’s waist, making it feel very much like it had been _his_ special day, instead of Harry’s.

“All right, you two,” Harry said suddenly, though despite the sternness of his tone, he was still smiling. “Admit it. You practiced without me so that this would be perfect, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” Draco replied with a coy smile. “I _may_ have pestered Severus into helping me get over some of my anxieties concerning our bedroom activities, but if you are asking me if we shagged without you present, the answer is a resounding _no_.”

“Wouldn’t that have been a better idea, though?” Harry asked, cocking his head to the side a little as he gazed at his two lovers. “I mean, what if we did this and you froze up? I’m not saying I’d be really upset about that—I mean, it happens, but...”

“Neither of us were willing to make love without you present, Harry,” Severus filled in, his tone lazy and patient, showing Draco that, like himself and Harry, he was _very_ satisfied with the outcome of the day. “Primarily, it was casual touching and things of that nature, to remind Draco as much as was possible that not all sex acts are painful.”

“I hope tonight proved that to you the rest of the way,” Harry remarked, nuzzling Draco’s bare shoulder lightly, making Draco chuckle as he leant in to kiss Harry, then turned to Severus, and did the same.

“I don’t know what I would do without either of you,” Draco said, his voice shaky with emotion, and Severus, without missing a beat, gently kissed away his tears.

“I have never been much of a social man,” Severus began, speaking softly, but loud enough that Harry and Draco were both able to hear him clearly. “But I know that my life is better with you two in it.”

Harry, ever the brash Gryffindor, suddenly climbed across Draco to reach Severus, and the blond groaned in pain as Harry’s pointed elbow dug into his stomach while he crashed his lips against Severus’s in a hard kiss.

“Harry,” Draco choked, “your elbow is going to poke a hole in my spleen.”

Harry yelped and pulled back, while Severus chuckled warmly. The older man’s cheeks were flushed a faint pink, though it was difficult to tell if it was from embarrassment or pleasure at Harry’s display.

“I think I could get used to this,” Harry said with a wide, almost dopey grin as he settled back down, and rested his arm across Draco’s middle again, but this time he moved to lace his fingers with Severus’s, their intertwined hands resting just above Draco’s navel. “All three of us, together, and it doesn’t matter what our families think, as long as we’re happy...right?”

“I agree,” Draco replied as he laid one of his hands over the intertwined ones of his lovers. “And you both make me feel safe, and happy, and I never want to let either of you go.”

Harry smiled, and moved in to press another gentle kiss to Draco’s lips, closely followed by Severus, who did the same, before the two brunets leant over Draco to kiss each other, this time thankfully without any elbows digging into his internal organs.

They all settled down, Harry tugging the duvet over the three of them while Severus flicked his wand at the bedroom window. It opened a few inches, allowing the sweet summer air to filter in, and it lulled the three lovers into peaceful sleep, at last unhindered by the darkened shadow that had plagued Draco for so many years. It was instead intertwined with the love that had grown between the three men, and it effectively chased away the horrors of his past, enabling Draco to look forward for the first time with hope, instead of fear.

 


	35. Epilogue – Fairy Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am so sorry for the delay in posting this, guys! The epilogue got away from me a teensy bit, and came out a little longer than my usual chapters, so, naturally, it took longer to write ^.^; Please enjoy, and thank you, a thousand times, thank you, for giving this story a chance. It’s been a long, exhausting road writing this, but in the end, it was absolutely worth it, and your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and recommendations went a long way towards keeping me inspired, and encouraging me to finish this, so this epilogue is for all of you. <3
> 
> Please note that page breaks labelled with a tilde (~) signify simply a time jump or situation change, not a change in POV.
> 
> Special thanks to my amazing beta, Jess C, for your amazing work over these last several months, I couldn’t’ve done it without you <3

Epilogue – Fairy Lights

 

Severus heard Harry come home much sooner than he saw him.

He glanced up from his brew of the Draught of Peace, and listened to the distinct clatter of Harry thumping his way from the front door to the kitchen, then to the sitting room, where he heard the sofa groan as the young man, now twenty-seven, fell down upon it.

Severus shook his head, but the soft smile never left his face as he cast a stasis charm upon his potion, and headed for the stairs that led to the main level of the cottage. Just _how_ many times had he told his young lover to _not_ throw himself down on the sofa like that? Some things would never change.

“Well?” Severus drawled the moment he spotted Harry, who was grinning in a giddy, almost maniacal sort of way. He seemed to be trying to hide it behind his oversized mug, which took two hands to hold with any modicum of control. “Did you pass?”

“Where’s Draco?” Harry asked, as though he hadn’t heard the question. “I don’t want to say anything until he’s here too.”

“He’s in the greenhouse harvesting mulberries for me,” Severus replied, then arched a brow at the brunet. “Though I am sure you are aware that the look on your face gives away your news rather spectacularly.”

“You work him like a house elf,” Harry complained as he set aside his mug and got back up, practically bouncing as he circled the sofa and stepped over to Severus, draping his arms over the older man’s shoulders while he continued to grin. “Does my face _really_ give away my exams results, or are you just using Sneaky Legilimency on me again?”

“ _Sneaky Legilimency_ does not exist, Harry, it is simply called _Legilimency_ , which I am not employing at present,” Severus retorted as he rolled his eyes. “I can read you like a book because you wear your emotions as plainly as that attractive jumper you have on.”

“So that would be a yes, then?”

“Obviously.”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but at the same moment the back door of the little house opened, revealing Draco, his face flushed from the chill of the winter air outside. He kicked snow off his black suede boots as he stepped inside, while he supported a woven basket full of white berries over one arm. When he glanced up and saw Harry, he smirked.

“I’m guessing by your face that you passed?” he asked in his familiar Malfoy drawl, and Harry swore.

“You bloody Slytherins and your Sneaky Legilimency tactics!” Harry cried as he pulled away from Severus, though he was still smiling as he continued to complain. “Should I just put a paper bag over my head when I have news from now on?”

“Only if it has a mouth hole,” Severus retorted, and Draco smirked devilishly.

“Oh, I like that idea,” he said, “you’d be like a walking glory hole.”

“You two are so crude,” Harry said with a slightly put-out huff, and crossed his arms. “Yes, I passed. I’m officially a Mind Healer.”

“Congratulations, Harry,” Severus said as he swept in to offer him a kiss. “I knew you could do it...despite your near-debilitating anxiety over your exams.”

“I didn’t,” Draco quipped, “I was certain that you’d cock it up.”

“I love you too, Draco,” Harry countered with a wry grin, and turned back to Severus, who he kissed again. “Well...since Draco is being an arse, why don’t you take me back to the bedroom and help me celebrate properly?”

“It’s not fair that you would get Severus all to yourself,” Draco complained as he set down the basket of berries before he closed the distance between himself and his two lovers, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist so that he was sandwiched between the two men, and he perched his head on Harry’s shoulder. “If you’re to celebrate, why can’t I come too? Or _cum_ , in this case.”

“Because you were rude to me,” Harry said teasingly, and Draco snorted softly.

“And I _never_ do that,” he retorted, making Harry crack a grin.

“Statistically, I am much more rude to you than Draco is,” Severus pointed out, dropping his voice to a low purr that always sent his two lovers into a state of mindless want. “You must subconsciously enjoy it a little...why else would you be with us?”

“Hardly,” Harry replied with a huff. “I’m with you two because _he—_ ” Harry jerked his head towards Draco, “is the most beautiful man on earth, and _you_ have the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen. Obviously.”

“Of course, it has _nothing whatsoever_ to do with our emotional compatibility,” Draco said dryly, and Harry grinned again, while Severus rolled his eyes.

“I feel as though I should be offended, but I can’t quite manage it at the moment,” Severus said, and Harry laughed, the sound abruptly ceasing when Severus leant in to kiss his pouty lips. “I propose dinner, then we can celebrate properly...is there anything special you would like to eat in lieu of your news, Harry?”

“Ooh, Breakfast for Dinner?”

“Harry, what age are you?” Draco asked incredulously, and Harry turned to blink at him.

“What?”

“Only _children_ would ask for something like that.”

“Only people who have something against breakfast would complain about breakfast for dinner,” Harry countered as he leant against Severus, and turned his gaze, wide and imploring, to the older man. “ _Please_ , Severus?”

The sickly sweet tone, paired with Harry’s unique ability to gaze at him with round, pleading, kittenish eyes had always been Severus’s undoing, and Harry knew it. He grinned a little, a falsely innocent expression, as though he had no idea what the look was doing to the older man.

“Fine, fine,” he grumbled, “just stop doing that face.”

Harry’s grin widened, and he pulled Severus in for a wonderfully sensual kiss, one which made the older man desperately want to abandon his proposed dinner plans and shag Harry right there in their sitting room.

When he and Harry had at last pulled apart, Draco was already there to offer Harry a kiss of his own. He smirked and dragged Harry close, who let out a tiny yelp of surprise before Draco cradled his cheek and pulled him in.

Severus smirked to himself, easing back a little to watch his two lovers together. Harry was dark and shadow, with his midnight hair and tanned skin, and was Draco as light as an angel. they looked so perfect together, and Severus was certain that he could cum from watching this alone.

“When you snog me like that and then make me wait _all_ afternoon for a shag...that just shows your evilness a little too well,” Harry panted, making Draco smirk slyly.

“Well if you two wish to keep out of trouble, you could always trim the tree,” Severus said as he motioned towards the depressingly bare evergreen in front of their sitting room window. “We _are_ going to have too many people over here in two days, and it might be better to have the thing decorated before then.”

“Inviting _four_ people over for Christmas Dinner is your idea of too many?” Harry asked, arching a brow at the older man.

“Six,” Draco corrected stiffly, while he directed his words at his feet, and Severus and Harry exchanged a significant look. Neither man was cruel enough to point out that it was unlikely that Narcissa and Lucius would attend, given that Draco’s past two Christmas Dinner invitations had gone unanswered, but Draco would come to that conclusion in his own time—he did not need his lovers going against him, and certainly not on such a sensitive topic.

“You both know that my patience for other people—save for you two—is fairly weak,” Severus said at last, while he reached out an arm to embrace Draco, pulling him close while Harry looked on with a small, sad sort of smile. “However, for some ungodly reason, you two actually _enjoy_ spending your holiday with others, and so I must condemn myself to another loud and messy Christmas Night.”

“That’s us,” Harry said with a note of sarcasm in his voice, “socialites.”

“I would say social _people_ ,” Draco corrected, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“Whatever,” he said, and Severus chuckled softly as he moved in to kiss Harry lightly upon the lips, then leant over him to offer the same affection to Draco.

“I shall start on this _breakfast_ ,” Severus said, while he ignored Draco’s huff of annoyance at Harry’s infantile request. “You two, try to behave yourselves?”

“We will,” they chorused, each young man sporting a wicked grin, one which made Severus roll his eyes as he turned and headed for the kitchen, while he listened to the pair chatter as they meandered towards the cupboard in the hall, which held their Christmas decorations.

Severus chuckled as he pulled out the bacon, tomatoes, horrific _tinned_ beans that Harry was partial to, eggs, and potatoes from the pantry, and began on Harry’s celebratory dinner. He could distantly hear Harry and Draco bickering about which decorations to use from the vast amount they’d bought last year, but as with the previous Christmas, and the year before that, neither young man seemed to be able to agree on which kinds to use.

 

“White fairy lights are _boring_ ,” he heard Harry complain, and Draco scoffed.

“They are _tasteful_ , Harry. We don’t need to make the bloody tree look like a Pink Floyd lightshow.”

“It’s so bizarre that you know who Pink Floyd are,” Harry said with a laugh, and yelped suddenly, closely followed by a loud _crash_ , and Severus rolled his eyes again.

“What happened?” he called over Harry’s loud grumbling.

“Harry tripped over the box of decorations again,” Draco called, “the one with the unbreakable baubles in it.”

“Harry, do watch where you’re going,” Severus retorted as he began to heat up the pans, slice the tomatoes, and dice the potatoes. “I can’t serve you this special dinner if you’re dead.”

Severus smirked when he heard Harry respond with an indistinct grumble, and most of their bickering slowly faded to the background.

 

_It is incredible,_ Severus mused to himself as he added the bacon to the pan, which hissed sharply. _So much has changed in the three years that I have been with Harry and Draco, and yet at the same time, so little._

Harry was still a pigheaded Gryffindor—that would certainly never change. He still wasn’t happy unless he was saving someone, and after the Wizengamot had shot down his most recent appeal to have the Malfoy case reopened, he began to pursue his studies as a Mind Healer.

Following this, Harry had complained to Draco and Severus many times how much it bothered him that the Wizengamot would not allow him another appeal for five more years, but Severus and Draco had been equally unfazed by this pronouncement. Beyond the lot of them being infuriatingly stubborn when it came to revisiting old cases, regardless if the verdict was an incorrect one, legalities were always a slow process, something which Harry was still learning.

Severus liked to believe that Draco was content, however, if not perfectly happy with them, despite the fact that he was still without his magic. He seemed to enjoy his role as a Potions Assistant, and was quite happy to rewrite Severus’s hastily scrawled notes into something more neat and orderly when Severus wasn’t asking him to forage or tend to their gardens. And, of course, Severus _knew_ that Draco enjoyed their time as a triad.

_Life does take some strange turns..._ Severus mused as he flipped the bacon and started on the potatoes, a faint, almost imperceptible smile gracing his lips as he worked.

 

Two hours later, when Severus about ready to announce dinner, he realized quite suddenly that something was wrong.

It was a feeling he’d grown accustomed to of late, what with having two trouble-magnets for significant others. At times it was like sharing his space with a few toddlers, instead of two grown men, for when he heard no noise, that was usually when trouble was most likely to be afoot.

It was quiet, Severus realized.

_Too_ quiet.

Severus stepped out of the kitchen, and found both Harry and Draco on the sofa, arms entangled around one another, and their lips pressed together as they snogged enthusiastically. Behind them, the tree was an absolute disaster of fairy lights in a tangled mess of coloured and white lights, the silver star atop the tree was lopsided and threatened to fall off, and it seemed as though none of the other decorations had even been touched.

Severus coughed once, making Harry and Draco leap apart, and he folded his arms across his chest as he set his expression into something sour and unimpressed, a look Harry might well remember from his wayward schooldays. Harry flushed red, and began to open and close his mouth as he tried to find an excuse, while Draco, in contrast, smirked like a cat with a bowl of cream, and eased back against the sofa’s cushions, virtually unruffled by Severus catching them.

“Something wrong, Severus?” Draco asked sweetly, while he reached for Harry and tried to tug him back towards him, but Harry remained stock still as he gazed at Severus, his expression lined with embarrassment.

“Harry?” Severus prompted as he stepped forward, stopping at the back of the sofa, where he gently carded his fingers through Draco’s hair, making the blond purr like a cat. “Is there a particular reason why you look so very much like a deer cornered by a hunter?”

“I—I just...” Harry stammered, trailing off awkwardly and Draco rolled his eyes, but Severus shook his head with vague amusement as he circled the piece of furniture. He stopped before Harry, gathering the young man into his arms, and he kissed him once.

“Do we need to have another talk about how it is not a sin to engage in... _activities_ with just one, and not both of us every single time?” Severus asked softly, and Harry flushed again. “I feel no jealousy at catching you two together, you understand that, do you not?”

“I know, but...” Harry bit his lip, and gazed back to Draco. “It almost feels wrong, somehow...like I’m being unfaithful by not waiting?”

“Unfaithful?” Severus queried, while Draco hid a laugh behind a cough. Harry frowned, his lip poking out in an irresistible pout, one which Severus could not resist as he reached out and tickled his lover’s lower lip with his thumb. “Have you been involved with anyone but Draco or myself?”

“Well, no, but...” Harry trailed off, and shook his head. “I know, logically, it’s not cheating, but it _feels_ like it, you know?”

“No,” Draco called from the sofa, still sprawled across it, sipping his tea while he exuded nothing but a sense of relaxation, apparently without a care in the world. “You’ve snogged just me or just Severus before, and you and Severus fucked probably three thousand times before I finally got well enough to join in. I don’t understand this attitude you’ve gotten lately of _all or nothing._ You can shag one of us without it being some sort of international crisis.”

“Draco, do not interrupt,” Severus admonished firmly, “stay there, and watch closely.”

“Oh, yes _sir_ ,” Draco said with a moan woven into the tone of his voice, which caused Severus to chuckle, and Harry to flush again.

Severus refocused his attention on Harry, and brushed his fingers under the brunet’s chin, making him shiver, his lips parting a little as he gazed up at Severus inquiringly. Before Harry was able to ask however, Severus sealed his lips over the young man’s in a tender kiss.

Harry let out a feeble moan as his arms lifted to link around Severus’s neck, and Severus chuckled in response as he drew Harry closer, teasing his lips with his tongue until Harry opened his mouth eagerly, and their tongues tangled together blissfully.

“Feel better?” Severus asked softly when they at last broke apart, but Harry appeared almost too dazed to answer.

“Not _better_ exactly...” Harry mumbled as he flushed again, and Severus chuckled as he reached down and ran his fingers over the distinct bulge in the front of the young man’s trousers, making him groan.

“Tonight,” Severus promised, “Draco and I will remind you to whom you belong, Harry.”

“Oh, yes please...” Harry keened as he bucked feebly into Severus’s hand, making Severus chuckle, which caused the young man to freeze. “Oh no, what are you planning?”

“Would I really torture you on your day of celebration?” Severus asked, but instead of the words placating his lover, Harry snorted derisively.

“Yes,” he replied dryly, and Draco chuckled from his spot on the sofa.

“Be fair, Severus,” Draco added as he stood fluidly and sauntered over to the two of them, “you have always had a way of being deliciously evil in the bedroom.”

“Deliciously evil?” Severus asked as he arched a brow, watching Draco as he stopped and hooked his arms around Harry’s waist. Harry smiled as he leant back into him, while both young men gazed up at Severus with looks of both love and admiration upon their faces.

In Harry’s case, at least. In contrast, Draco looked more like he’d just come up with some sort of plot for world domination.

“Well...” Draco said as his hands began to move the short distance from Harry’s hips to the button on the front of his jeans, and Harry tilted his head back against Draco’s shoulder as the blond snaked his hand down the front of his trousers. “There _was_ that time that you chained Harry to the bed, put lipstick on me, and instructed me to do as I liked, until he was positively _covered_ in red, or when I’d finally overcome my fear of fellatio, and you _politely requested_ that I suck our dear Harry off while you watched, or that time I accidentally spoiled your Shivering Plums and you punished me by making me watch you and Harry shag, but wouldn’t let me even _touch_ myself...”

As Draco spoke, he had begun to idly stroke Harry, his voice lending to an air of languor, as though he hardly noticed that he was stroking Harry at all.

“In sum, I am positively horrible to you both in the bedroom, and must stop these activities immediately?” Severus asked, arching a brow at them, “is that what you are implying?”

“ _No!_ ” both Harry and Draco cried at the same time, the dramatic tone with which they both spoke making it seem like Severus had threatened to starve them, or something equally horrific. Severus rolled his eyes as he chuckled. He watched Draco’s forearm pause its stroking for a moment and visibly tense, making it clear he had just offered Harry’s cock a squeeze, which was validated when Harry moaned weakly.

“Finish up, you two, and get ready for dinner,” Severus said, eyes glittering as he watched them. He could feel his own cock pressing plaintively against the inside of his trousers at the titillating sight of the two young men— _his_ two young men—together, but despite his longing, he still wanted to wait until after they’d eaten. He had big plans for Harry’s sweet arse tonight, and he was not about to spoil it by rushing. They both grinned and nodded, and Severus watched Draco stroke Harry to completion right there in their sitting room before they both headed to the lavatory to wash up.

 

Given that he’d already seen Harry cum, Severus had anticipated that the pair would take no more than ten minutes or so to finish washing up before they joined him at the dinner table. Instead, it was more than half an hour before Draco and Harry meandered into the dining room, their hair damp and both of their faces flushed, leaving nothing to the imagination of what they had been up to.

Severus rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time that day, and debated the benefits of poking a few holes in Harry’s severely flawed _I don’t want to feel like I am cheating on you_ mindset, but decided that it was probably not in his best interest to antagonize his lover at the moment.

“Breakfast time!” Harry said with a grin, while Severus and Draco both rolled their eyes—again—while Draco, like Severus, could not help but smile as they watched Harry sit himself down at the table, and began to serve himself great helpings of eggs, beans, and bacon, along with another large mug of tea.

“I feel like I’m twelve years old again,” Draco said with a small chuckle as he laid a fried tomato slice on his toast, and sipped his glass of pumpkin juice. Severus smirked a little, and reached for his hand under the table.

“I could always try and give Harry detention, if you’d like our dinner to feel more authentic,” Severus offered, and both young men laughed at his comment.

“I can _hear_ you, you know,” Harry said, a rasher of bacon sticking out of his mouth crudely. “And no, you cannot give me detention— _but_ if you want to punish me, I think that that can be arranged.”

“Who knew the Golden Boy was so interested in bondage,” Draco remarked with a smirk, and Severus chuckled his agreement, while Harry let out a huff of annoyance at their comments.

“I’m _hardly_ the Golden Boy anymore,” Harry pointed out, gesturing with an egg-leaden fork as he spoke, and flicking the tabletop with drops of runny yolk in the process. “Not since that _cow_ wrote that bloody article about us last year.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Draco replied airily as he sipped his juice. “It was rather worth a read. _Former Prostitute and Exile Draco Malfoy Seduces Harry Potter with Lewd Sex Practices, Former Death Eater Severus Snape Doses Harry Potter with Love Potion, blah, blah, blah Dark Magic, blah, blah, blah Poor Potter, et cetera, et cetera..._ ”

Harry rolled his eyes, and nudged Severus’s knee under the table, but his faint smile fell a little when Severus did not return the silent sentiment.

“Oh, Severus, don’t be so sour,” Harry said in a soft and consoling tone of voice as he reached across the table and touched the back of the older man’s hand. “It’s not as though any of those people _really_ know us, and those who do know that it was all utter bollocks.”

“I am aware of that, thank you,” Severus said stiffly as he sliced into his own fried tomato, topped with a piece of bacon. “However, one is not always capable of blocking out all the Howlers that followed.”

“Further proof that Molly Weasley is still barking, if you ask me,” Harry said. “She’s not worth a thought, Severus. No matter how many times she claims that you two are abusing me, _I know_ that it’s not true. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“Well said,” Draco agreed. “That woman will believe what she wants to believe. It’s quite clear she still hasn’t accepted that her son is an abusive scumbag, so why would she even entertain the thought that Harry is happy with us?”

“Exactly,” Harry replied, and smirked a little. “It’s positively _ludicrous_ that I’d find happiness with two former rivals, rather than that woman’s daughter.”

“And I am sure she would be doubly horrified to hear how much of our diction you have picked up over the years,” Severus teased as he reached out his free hand to trail over the back of Harry’s, and the young man offered him a sweet smile.

“I love you both,” Harry said, abruptly dropping his teasing words and tone, and apparently missing Severus’s remark altogether. “I hope you two know that. I _love_ you.”

“We know, Harry,” Severus replied, the faintest edge of a smile teasing his lips as he threaded his fingers through Harry’s. “I love you both as well.”

“Me too,” Draco added, then winced as though bothered by the phrasing. “We don’t say it very much but...you both know how I feel about you?”

“Vaguely fond of us?” Harry offered, and laughed when Draco reached across the table to swat his arm lightly.

 

The trio finished their meal, and rounded it off with Harry’s preferred treacle tart, before Draco abandoned his slice halfway through and planted himself in Severus’s lap.

“Draco, what are you doing?” Severus asked as the young man looped his arms around Severus’s neck, and he began to plant soft, tickling kisses to the side of his throat.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Draco teased, “I’m tired of eating food; I’d rather eat your cock instead.”

“Aren’t you supposed to wait half an hour after you eat?” Harry teased, and Draco turned, still perched upon Severus, and he offered his lover a playful smirk, while Severus was happy to reach down, intent to begin kneading Draco’s cock to hardness, only to find that it was already at full mast.

Severus watched Draco smirk again, before he leant in to cradle Severus’s chin, and kissed him lightly, while he casually gave Harry the finger, making the other man laugh.

“How would you feel about giving Harry a _real_ gift tonight?” Severus whispered softly, while he traced the outline of Draco’s cock with one finger. Immediately, Draco moaned his assent, and Severus smirked.

“I want to fuck him with you,” Draco breathed, and Severus let out a soft groan of his own. “Both our cocks in his _beautiful_ arse...”

“ _Exactly_ what I was thinking,” Severus replied, his eyes flitting over Draco’s shoulder to Harry, but he had gone back to his slice of treacle tart, and it seemed as though he had not overheard them.

“I’ll watch you fist him,” Draco murmured, drawing Severus’s attention back to the blond, “then he’ll sit down on my cock, and you’ll take him from behind. Does that sound good to you, Severus?”

“You are a fiendish thing, and you put such wicked ideas in my head,” Severus purred as he leant in for another kiss. “It sounds positively _delicious_.”

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Harry asked curiously, making both men turn to glance at him. Severus and Draco mirrored their expressions into devious smirks, and Harry’s relaxed smile fell a little. “Uh oh, what are you two planning?”

“Nothing...” Draco began innocently, and Harry snorted.

“Bollocks. I _know_ that look, Draco,” Harry said with a wry grin, “it usually means you two are planning something that will make me walk funny for a few days.”

“Are you actually _complaining_ about that, Harry?” Severus asked as he arched a brow, “last time I checked, you rather enjoyed us making you bow-legged.”

“Not complaining in the strictest sense,” Harry amended as he shrugged, and crammed the last bit of tart into his mouth before he continued to speak, spraying the table with crumbs, “I’d just like to be in on your plans once in a while, that’s all.”

“You’ll be _in_ them soon enough, love,” Draco said slyly, and Harry rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

 

Severus and Draco chose to give Harry’s stomach an hour to settle before they both snuck up on him. They found him lounging in the sitting room, and reading one of his recently acquired muggle novels from Granger, and appearing quite relaxed, despite Severus and Draco’s promises of brilliant sex that night.

“It’s time,” Severus murmured as he wrapped his arms around Harry from behind, and placed a kiss against the crook of the young man’s neck, making him laugh. “Are you ready to properly celebrate your good news?”

“I’ve been ready since I got home,” Harry retorted as he craned his neck to offer Severus an upside-down grin, his vibrant eyes glittering with mirth, and Severus found himself struggling to keep his expression set in its usual aloof demeanour as his stomach fluttered with tender adoration for him.

“Then we have quite the treat for you,” Severus purred, leaning in to plant a kiss upon Harry’s lips before he pulled back and allowed him to stand, he taking his sweet time in marking the page of his novel before he stood, then suddenly spun on his heel and launched himself at Severus so abruptly that he knocked the older man to the ground as he kissed him hard.

Severus grunted as his head swung back, but Harry’s hand caught his head, stopping it from knocking against the wood floor. He shifted atop Severus, grinding their clothed erections together as Harry deepened the kiss with a soft moan, clutching at Severus with a desperate edge of need to his embrace, though at the same time it was also tender and loving.

_I can’t let him go,_ Severus thought, the musing almost desperate, despite the fact that the words had not been vocalised as he kissed Harry back with equal fervour. _Not ever. I need him, as surely as I need Draco._

Severus had known this, of course, but never had he felt it so acutely before. He _needed_ Harry, he did not simply _want_ him; and this need came from one source— _love._

“Harry...” Severus breathed, his tone reverent, and Harry offered him a soft, sweet smile.

“Come on, Severus,” Harry murmured as he got up, his reluctance to get up clear in every move that he made, and he tugged on the older man’s hands. “Let’s move this to the bedroom, shall we?”

Severus smirked, and followed Harry’s lead to their bedroom, where Harry let out a loud laugh when he spotted Draco, right where Severus had left him.

Draco was stretched out across the dark blue coverlet of their bed, naked, with a red rose between his teeth. More rose petals adorned the bedspread in an attractive circle, culminating in a mess of the petals across the young man’s groin, where his erection rose from the garden of red.

“I feel like I’ve just walked into a cheesy romance novel,” Harry said between giggles, not quite able to take his eyes off of the blond, who appeared quite unembarrassed about being laid out like a sumptuous feast, and merely smirked at Harry around the stem between his teeth.

“Good cheese, though?” Severus asked as he looped his arms back around Harry’s waist, and they both watched as Draco removed the rose from his mouth, and began to trail the bloom along the centre of his chest.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, his voice breathless as he stared at Draco, once more as though he was completely incapable of looking away from the sight before him. “Like...like...gouda, or that soft cheese that tastes like cum...”

“Brie does _not_ taste like cum!” Draco protested suddenly, sitting up a little and ruining the scene quite spectacularly in the process, which made Harry laugh out loud.

“Lie back down, Draco,” Severus commanded, “you’re supposed to be seducing Harry, not bickering about the appetence of cheese.”

Draco let out a little huff as he laid back down, though his sour expression had rather ruined his seductive, almost fey-like appearance. It seemed as though Harry was aware of this too, as he untangled himself from Severus and approached the bedside, smiling softly as he climbed up amongst the rose petals, and kissed the blond lightly.

Harry murmured something to Draco and he nodded, just before Harry vanished all the flower petals, then took the rose from Draco, and began to tease his nipples with it, grinning as he did so.

Severus stepped towards the bed, smirking a little, and as he stopped at the edge of the bed he heard Harry whisper, “I think I understand now why Severus always calls you his Beautiful Boy, Draco. You’re just...you look _beautiful_ like this.”

Draco bowed his head, a delicate pink dusting his cheeks, then he glanced back up to Harry, his fingers splaying across his agemate’s chest before they inched up towards his neck, curled around the collar of his shirt, and he drew Harry into another kiss.

Severus could see the rose crush between the two bodies, and Harry’s breath caught as a thorn nicked his finger, and blood beaded around the green of the stem like a macabre bloom.

Severus was quick to intervene, and he pried the rose from Harry’s hand, setting it on the bedside table before he sat down on the edge of the coverlet. He drew Harry’s hand to him, and he sucked on the injured digit, clearing away the tiny droplet of blood easily, while simultaneously he elicited a soft gasp from Harry, though if it was from surprise, arousal, or both, he could not tell.

“Would you like to know our plan?” Draco asked sweetly, speaking the words gently against Harry’s lips, and the young man nodded eagerly. “Severus, love, give me your hand.”

Severus smirked a little and happily obliged, resting his open hand on top of Draco’s, and he gently curled Severus’s hand into a fist, then offered Harry one of his trademark evil smirks.

“You are going to take _this_ , Harry,” Draco explained, motioning to Severus’s closed fist, “then we are _both_ going to fuck you. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like a fantasy come to life,” Harry said with a groan as he leant back to gaze up at Severus, grinning in an almost punch-drunk sort of way. “You know, if you do fist me, my arse will probably never close properly ever again.”

“I see no problem with that,” Severus purred as he reached down to gently cradle Harry’s chin, then pecked his lips lightly. “It will just mean quicker access when one of us wants to fuck you.”

“Severus, _must_ you be so crude?” Draco asked as he inched closer until Harry was pressed up between them. “This is Harry’s celebratory fuck, not Severus’s various plans for making quickies quicker.”

“Be fair,” Harry said teasingly, “ _celebratory fuck_ is pretty crude as well.”

“But _celebratory fuck_ has a sort of...salutatory effect,” Draco explained as he began to tease the buttons on Harry’s shirt. “Because we’re _celebrating_ your triumphant overcoming of the dread Mind Healer Exams.”

“Would now be a bad time to say that I nearly got into an argument with the invigilator about the correct way to help someone who struggles with addiction?” Harry asked, smiling sweetly as his gaze flitted from Draco to Severus and back again, and both men rolled their eyes.

“An _extremely_ bad time, love,” Draco said, leaning in to kiss Harry again. “We are going to have wild sex _first_ , then we can berate the invigilator, all right?”

“Deal,” Harry said, and grinned.

“Now,” Severus breathed as Draco began to plant kisses to the side of Harry’s throat and flick open the buttons upon his shirt effortlessly, while Severus slipped his hands lower to seek out the clasp upon Harry’s trousers. “I believe we have yet to try fisting, Harry...are you nervous?”

“A little,” Harry admitted, panting slightly as his fingers trailed over Severus’s hand, though he could not tell if Harry was merely teasing it, or mapping out its dimensions. “I mean...your hands are sort of... _big_.”

“I will prepare you, as I always do,” Severus replied, and then leant in to kiss the top of Harry’s head gently. “This is not a non-negotiable situation, you know that...if it hurts, or is too much, we can always stop.”

“I know,” Harry replied softly, “but I don’t want to stop, but I also don’t want to hurt...does that make sense?”

Harry flushed, perhaps in embarrassment to his statement, but far from demean him for his admission, Severus pulled him close, and leant in to kiss his cheek as he murmured, “it will be all right, Harry, and if you need to stop, you just need to tell us so.”

The young man in his arms immediately relaxed, nodding as he let out a tiny, blissful sigh, then tilted his head back, his lips parted and pleading to be kissed.

Never one to deny him, Severus lent in to kiss Harry as his shirt fell away, enabling Severus to reach down for his trousers more easily.

“ _Yes_ ,” Harry breathed, shivering under the dual kisses of Severus and Draco, and he rotated his hips as Severus unclasped his belt, causing his trousers to drop down to his knees the moment that Severus had let go.

“Oh, Harry, you’re always such an eager little thing...” Severus purred, making Harry grin as he hooked his thumbs under the elastic of his pants, and tugged them down slowly.

“It’s not fair that we’re starkers and you’re not,” Harry said as he stepped out of the two garments, leaving him in nothing but his socks.

“I am hardly much to look at compared to you two,” Severus replied with a self-deprecating sort of chuckle, but it tapered off quickly when he saw both his lovers shaking their heads at him.

“Love, have you _seen_ yourself naked?” Draco asked, and Severus arched an eyebrow at him.

“Quite a bit,” he replied dryly, while Harry turned in his arms until they were chest to chest, and kissed him tenderly.

“I think what Draco means is that he can’t believe you’d say something like that, when every part of you is desirable to us,” Harry explained. “Beyond your enormous cock, you’re a beautiful man, Severus.”

“You _are_ ,” Draco added when Severus let out a disbelieving huff. “Are we going to have to do a _Severus Day_ to convince you of that?”

“Please do not,” Severus said, but the mirrored grins he saw on the faces of both his lovers did not seem to bode well for him. “I am not struggling with my self esteem on any level; I have accepted my appearance, such as it is.”

“We’ll see about that,” Harry teased, and arched up to kiss him again.

Severus relaxed a little, relieved that—for the moment, at least—Harry and Draco seemed to have abandoned their _make Severus feel better about his appearance_ plot. Slowly, Severus and Harry climbed onto the bed with Draco, but before he could ask Harry to turn around so that he could prepare him, both of his young lovers were on him, pressing kisses to his mouth and throat while two sets of hands gently relieved him of his clothing, one garment at a time.

Severus had to admit—albeit grudgingly—that this attention was nice, and something that he rarely got from them, although that had more to do with Severus’s penchant for control in the bedroom, rather than a lack of consideration from his partners.

“See?” Draco murmured to Harry as he trailed his fingertips across Severus’s chest, making the older man shiver slightly, “isn’t Severus _lovely_?”

“I never doubted it,” Harry replied as he joined in with Draco in teasing Severus. Severus tried to scowl, but the attentions to his body were making it difficult to muster up his anger at his lovers; this was _not_ how he’d envisioned the evening going. “He is indeed _very_ lovely.”

“The Lovely Man,” Draco said, then almost immediately shook his head. “No, that doesn’t really work, does it?”

“The Best Man?” Harry offered, grinning a little as he tweaked one of Severus’s nipples, making him hiss, and he glowered at the pair of grinning young men.

“Unless he is watching you get married, then no,” Draco said, and inched forward to plant a tender kiss to Severus’s lips. “In short, we both think you’re wonderful, Severus, so no more self-inflicted barbs, understand?”

“If I’m to be subject to this ridiculousness any time I so much as _think_ it, certainly not,” Severus replied stiffly, and both Harry and Draco offered him another grin each. He ignored it, while determinedly paying no mind to the distinct fluttering in the pit of his stomach while he drew Harry into his lap, and kissed him deeply before he said, “I believe I promised you something...if you’d be so kind as to turn around so that I might prepare that delectable arse of yours?”

Harry grinned, and immediately spun around, getting on all fours with his legs spread invitingly, and he craned his neck, turning to offer Severus another sweet smile.

Severus smirked in return, though the expression softened to a smile when he reached out to ghost his fingers across the cleft of Harry’s arse, and the young man let out a soft sigh of pleasure.

Again, Severus felt a fluttering of pleasure deep in the pit of his stomach, further proof his deep love for the two men who sat before him. He’d never had two people in his life that he loved more than Harry and Draco, and like so many times before, he felt a burning determination to preserve that love, and make sure that he did not hurt either one of them in any way.

With that in mind, he cast the usual cleansing and lubrication spells, making Harry shiver, before he extended one finger, and slipped it slowly into the young man’s arse.

Harry let out a tiny, blissful sigh as the long digit wormed its way into him, but Severus did not miss the slight note of relief that permeated the vocalization—it appeared as though Harry thought Severus would begin fisting him with no preparation whatsoever. Was the young man _really_ that foolish?

Severus knew the answer to _that_ particular musing without asking Harry directly. He shook his head a little as he added a second finger to Harry’s arse, stretching it gently while Draco shimmied up the bed until he was face to face with Harry, and moved in to kiss him tenderly.

Severus watched his two lovers, smiling to himself as he added a third finger, which made Harry hiss slightly, and clench around Severus’s hand. He slowed his movements slightly, thrusting the three digits in and out of him while Draco continued to distract him with sinful kisses that made Severus’s cock positively _ache_ with longing. Slowly, he felt Harry’s arse relax around his fingers, and he added a fourth, which made Harry gasp again.

Severus worked the fingers in carefully, spreading them out and stretching Harry thoroughly, while he added extra lubricant to avoid hurting him.

“Oh, _God_...” Harry moaned, shuddering as Severus teased his hole with his four fingers, before Draco caught his mouth with another searing kiss.

“Draco, do stop kissing him for a moment,” Severus asked as he slowly retracted his fingers, then flexed them once, before he formed his hand into a fist.

Draco pulled back, his mouth quirked into an excited grin, while Harry bit his lip, clearly excited, but nervous as well. Draco appeared to sense this, and pulled Harry back in for a brief kiss before he murmured something to him, too softly for Severus to hear, but he supposed that it was a reassurance of some kind, given how Harry nodded a little before he relaxed again.

Harry turned back to Severus and nodded for him to continue, before Severus tapped his fist, lubricating it, and then nestled the appendage against the young man’s rectum before he slowly began to work it in, making Harry gasp and squirm, but he did not seem to be in any outright pain, which encouraged Severus to continue.

Severus worked his knuckles in and out of Harry’s arse slowly—perhaps more slowly than was necessary, if he was being honest with himself. His lover shuddered and groaned at the sensation, his head bowed forward and his shoulders expanding and contracting with each deep breath, making it abundantly clear that despite the slight pain, Harry was clearly enjoying this.

After one last tentative partial insertion, Severus pressed forward and watched with a strange sort of fascination as Harry’s arse swallowed his fist whole, it popping into place with another shuddering groan from Harry, who slumped forward slightly on the bed, but his arse was still raised high in the air as Severus drove his fist in deeper, making Harry moan again, while his hands reached out blindly to grapple at the duvet. It was clear that he was enjoying it, though the lazy pleasure with which he conducted himself was hardly what Severus was hoping for—he wanted Harry to lose himself in the pleasure, not merely _enjoy_ it, like one might enjoy a relaxing bath or soothing massage.

Severus opened his fist slightly, pulling out his wrist a little before he thrust it back in, and this time he hit Harry’s prostate in the process, making him cry out in sudden, surprised pleasure.

“ _Jesus_!” Harry blurted, making Draco snort a little, while Severus smirked at the response. It was quite rare that Harry invoked his deities, but it always meant that he was deeply enjoying their activities when it happened.

Severus leant up as much as he could, his fist still buried deep inside of Harry, and he nipped at Harry’s shoulder blade before he offered it a kiss as he murmured, “think you’re ready to take both of us?”

Harry nodded a little, still panting hard, and mumbled a soft, “ _please_.”

Draco smirked, and moved in first to kiss Harry gently. He then crawled down the bed to offer Severus the same affection, before he moved back up to the head of the bed while Severus gently extracted his fist from Harry’s arse.

It slipped from the orifice with a crude sort of _pop,_ then Harry immediately moved to straddle Draco’s hips, and he grinned down at the blond before he leant in to kiss him, rotating his hips as he blindly sought out Draco’s cock, making both young men moan while Severus looked on hungrily.

Severus did all that he could to commit the scene to memory as he shifted forward until he was kneeling between Draco’s legs and at Harry’s back, sandwiching the brunet between his and Draco’s bodies. He caught the sight of Harry’s small smile as he reached back for Severus, but from the position, he could do little more than awkwardly pat Severus’s knee, though the move still felt warm and inviting nonetheless.

While the two younger men continued to kiss, Severus took hold of the base of Draco’s cock with one hand, making the young man groan. The other he rested on Harry’s hip, and guided him to sit on Draco’s cock, making both young men moan with pleasure at the delicious sensation.

From his vantage point, Severus could see Harry’s thighs quivering, as though he longed to begin moving, but was restraining himself as he waited for the addition of the second cock to his arse.

Never one to deny Harry (or himself) the pleasure, Severus shifted closer until his chest was pressed against Harry’s back, and he took his own cock in hand, guiding it to Harry’s waiting hole.

“Oh...oh... _fuck..._ ” Harry moaned, while Draco let out a wordless cry of his own, and Severus bit down upon Harry’s shoulder as his mind was numbed by the intense pleasure of easing his cock into such a deliciously confining space.

“S-Sweet Circe...” Draco choked out, adding his own voice to the litany as Severus pushed in farther, stopping only when he was fully hilted inside of Harry.

For a moment, no one moved. Severus could barely _fathom_ moving, when at the present moment, all he wanted to do was stay inside Harry like this forever.

“D-Draco,” Severus ground out, as he tried to keep his mind focused, but it was remarkably difficult with Harry’s arse around his cock, and Draco’s own member compressed against his own. He spoke again, mentally kicking himself for losing control so spectacularly, though if Harry or Draco noticed his mental shut-down, they did not remark on it. “Follow my lead...”

“Oh, _yes_...” Draco moaned again, and as Severus slowly drew out of Harry, Draco mirrored him. Harry visibly shuddered at the sensation, and clenched his eyes shut, but if his heavy breathing was any indication, he was not in any sort of pain.

They thrust back into Harry, their timing slightly off, but it did not seem to bother their third party as he grunted with pleasure, a nonsensical string of syllables escaping past his lips, while his arms trembled, as though it was a true trial for him to stay up on all fours.

Draco remedied this by dragging Harry down into a fierce, open-mouthed kiss, while Harry let out a small yelp of surprise at the action, though Draco merely grinned as he rotated his hips, thrusting in and out of Harry with Severus’s guidance, while Harry, once more, vocalised a series of moans as he tried to follow the actions of his two lovers, though it would appear—to Severus, at least—that he was too lost in his own pleasures to do more than gyrate his hips feebly every third or fourth thrust.

Severus knew that Harry was not exactly known for his staying power, and was therefore not surprised when he came first, crying sharply as he sputtered his seed over his own as well as Draco’s abdomen, while Severus and Draco continued to move, picking up speed and battering Harry’s arse mercilessly, while Harry continued to grunt his pleasure, clearly pleased that it was continuing despite the fact that he’d already finished, and Severus, to his dismay, came next, pumping Harry’s arse full of his cum, while Draco trembled, groaning at the sudden flash of heat that encased their cocks, and quite suddenly he found his release as well, before all three men fell into a tangled heap upon the bed as they all tried to catch their breath.

“Sev-Severus,” Harry panted, “I—this...this was _brilliant_ , but I can’t breathe...could you...?”

“Sorry, Harry,” Severus muttered, an uncomfortable heat encasing his face as he reluctantly slid off of Harry, pulling his spent cock from his arse in the process, while he watched Draco squirm as he did the same, just as Harry settled down between his two Slytherin lovers, and happily cuddled up against Severus’s chest.

“This was _brilliant_ ,” Harry repeated, still panting a little as he grinned up at Severus. “We need to definitely do it again, but someone else on the bottom, please? Or _my_ bottom will be left stretched open permanently.”

“I see no problem with that,” Severus teased as he leant in to press a light kiss to Harry’s lips, and he beamed up at Severus with a bright, joyous smile.

“And now that you’ve been fisted by Severus, fucked by two cocks at once, _and_ become a fully-licensed Mind Healer, what do you plan to do next?” Draco asked from Harry’s other side, shifting closer until his chin was perched on Harry’s shoulder, and Harry smiled at both his lovers affectionately.

“Maybe get through the Christmas Season with minimal decorations arguments?” Harry asked teasingly, and both Severus and Draco laughed.

 

~

 

Despite Harry’s most fervent wishes that night, in the days to come Severus was privy to more than one argument about decorations, food, and every other ridiculous thing that came with the hellish season.

He found himself at last stepping in to quash a budding fairy lights war between Harry and Draco more than once, and, at last, on Christmas Eve, Severus had at last had enough, and vetoed the Fairy Lights Argument in Draco’s favour, which meant that their tree was adorned with just white lights. Harry stomped off to sulk, instead of help with the other things that needed doing in preparation for Christmas Dinner the following day, which caused both his lovers to huff in annoyance, rather than feel any sort of sympathy towards him.

“In all the excitement of his news, I forgot what a fucking _child_ he can be...” Draco grumbled as he spooned the mincemeat into the tart shells, flicking the implement a little harder than was probably necessary as he did so.

“I find it hard to believe that you would be the bigger man and not have reacted the same way, had I sided with Harry,” Severus said pointedly, and Draco scowled. “Exactly. Now do stop your complaining, and finish with those tarts. We are going to have _far_ too many people over tomorrow, and I would like to finish before midnight.”

“Only in your mind would _six_ people be far too many...” Draco retorted, smiling a little, but the expression fell when Severus glanced up and looked at him seriously. Severus waited silently, and he felt his stomach twist with pity for his Beautiful Boy when he responded defensively, rather than logically.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You know why, Draco,” Severus said, his mouth twitching into a frown. “We are having four people over tomorrow, not six.”

“You don’t know that,” Draco said stubbornly as he looked away, his eyes filming suddenly with tears. “They might come. They didn’t respond again, but...”

Severus set down his chef’s knife, and crossed the small space to his lover. Draco let out a small sob as he leant against Severus’s chest, and he stroked Draco’s hair gently as he wept.

“I am sorry if my words seem cruel, my Beautiful Boy,” Severus murmured as he planted a gentle kiss to the top of his head, “but I do not wish to give you false hope. Your parents have ignored or outright declined your invitation every year, and I cannot see them changing their minds any time soon.”

“But Father is getting better,” Draco protested miserably, “Remember? I went to the hospital with my muggle identification, and they said he’s communicating again! The nurse told me he was even remembering how to read and write! Either they found a medication that’s working, or the hex is finally wearing off. Mother knows I have not been in any bad place for years, why would she still refuse to see me? Am I such a black mark upon her nonexistent reputation?”

“You know why,” Severus replied softly as he continued to stroke Draco’s hair. Draco nodded, still sniffing a little as he clutched onto Severus, tears streaking his cheeks as a heartbroken expression settled upon his face.

“I just...” Draco sniffed, and Severus handed him a handkerchief wordlessly. Draco accepted it, and dabbed at his cheeks before he continued, “I just wish she could understand that I’m _better_ , and I’m not that person anymore. I want my parents back, and I want you and Harry in my life. Is that really so bad? Am I selfish, like I used to be, for wanting all that?”

“Wishing for your parents’ approval is hardly a selfish thought, Draco,” Severus replied as he brushed his fingers over Draco’s chin, tilting his head up gently before he kissed him. “I know that you want it, but holding onto something, and fixating upon it with no thought to anything else are two very different things, and I worry that you are unable to make time in your life for other things when you are focused so intently upon the loss of your parents. Do you understand?”

“I suppose,” Draco replied with a feeble shrug, “I just...I miss them.”

“I know, love,” Severus murmured as he wrapped his arms around Draco and hugged him close. “Contrary to popular belief, time cannot heal all wounds.”

 

It began to snow quite heavily by the time Severus called Harry to join himself and Draco for their Christmas Eve dinner of lamb roast with all the trimmings, paired with an enormous bottle of mulled mead. In contrast to his attitude from earlier, Harry seemed even more giddy than usual, with a sprig of holly pinned to his hideous Christmas-themed jumper, while Draco was quiet, his head bowed a little, his mind still obviously focused upon his parents’ rejection. Though if Harry noticed, he did not say anything as he sat down and thanked Severus for preparing the food, before they all served themselves and began to eat.

“Oh, Merlin’s Balls,” Harry said with a groan as he sipped his mead, “this is so good. Where did you buy this?”

“As if I would allow some plebeian barman spice my mead,” Severus scoffed as he stabbed at a roasted potato, “I bought the mead, but I spiced it myself.”

“And once again Harry and I need to reiterate the fact that you should abandon potionmaking and become a chef,” Draco said as he reached across the table to squeeze Severus’s arm, a small smile forced upon his face, though it seemed at least partially genuine, despite his ever-present elegiac mood. “Everything is _delicious_ , Severus.”

“It’s true,” Harry agreed as he sipped his mead again before he reluctantly abandoned it in favour of serving himself another slice of lamb, which, to Severus’s disgust, he all but drowned in mint preserves. “Everything is _fantastic_ ; you’d be an amazing chef, Severus.”

“As much as I enjoy the praises of you both, I am afraid that I still prefer a simmering cauldron to that of a simmering...pot.” He grimaced at his own wording, and glared at his two lovers when they began to giggle. Harry’s face was already getting a little red, and Draco also seemed to notice this, and he pointedly moved the mead bottle out of Harry’s reach.

“Well, you are still a genius potioneer, which I suppose means only Harry, myself, and our...erm... _friends_ get to enjoy your delicious wares.”

“And as it should be,” Severus replied firmly, while he exchanged a significant look with Harry. He nodded minutely, making it quite clear that he, too, had not missed Draco’s choice to say _friends_ as opposed to _family._

“And my wonderful godson,” Harry added cheerily, which made Severus grunt a little, causing Harry’s grin to widen. “He has a little crush on you, you know.”

“Do not remind me of that little brat’s peculiar fascination with me,” Severus snapped grumpily, causing Harry to bite his lip as he offered Severus a grin, as though he was trying to stifle his laughter.

“Well, that’s what happens when you’re so heart-stoppingly, mind-bogglingly, dazzlingly handsome, Severus,” Draco retorted, which made Severus sputter indignantly, and Harry snort with laughter.

“Are you seriously slut-shaming _Severus_ , of all people, for Teddy’s crush on him?” Harry asked, his tone accusatory but teasing, and Draco smirked.

“Just a little,” he admitted, “but I say it only because it is the truth.”

Severus rolled his eyes as his two companions giggled, and returned his focus to his meal. He knew that they were still complimenting him in some silly attempt to remind him that he was desired by them, which was superfluous, really, given the amount of times in recent history that they had all but _begged_ him to shag them. That was proof enough in Severus’s mind that they wanted him, and not just each other.

 

They rounded off their meal with Harry’s sugary creation of a chocolate trifle. Severus was pleased to note that Harry had crafted the monstrosity with bittersweet and dark chocolates, which went remarkably well with their after-dinner coffee, and Harry seemed quite incapable of wiping the knowing smile from his face, as though he knew that Severus was enjoying it, despite his lack of remarks.

The three then switched their coffee for cups of tea—though Harry had insisted upon hot chocolate for himself, proclaiming that it was more festive—and they headed for the sitting room to relax.

Harry built up the fire while Draco and Severus settled down together upon the sofa, and the moment Harry had a roaring fire going, he happily joined them, snuggling in on Severus’s opposite side with a soft smile of contentment upon his face. Concurrently, Severus did not miss how Draco’s eyes often strayed to the tree, where already a few parcels had been lain, his brow pinched with curiosity.

“No peeking,” Harry warned, clearly having noticed Draco eyeing the tree, “or I’ll return everything, I mean it.”

“Why do you _always_ treat me like a little kid?” Draco complained, and this time it was both Harry and Severus who rolled their eyes.

“I do not,” Harry replied with a short huff of annoyance, “I treat you like a sneaky Slytherin who has the patience of a goldfish.”

“In this, I would have to agree with Harry,” Severus added, which only seemed to contribute to Draco’s scowl. “You are notorious for peeking, Draco. There is virtue in actually waiting until Christmas morning, as you might recall.”

“And I _really_ don’t want to put a Caterwauling Charm on your gifts again,” Harry added with a slight wince. “It really kills the Christmas Spirit.”

Draco crossed his arms grumpily, but did not respond. Soon after, he drained his cup and said something about making it an early night before he stomped off to bed.

“Leave him, Harry,” Severus said when Harry shifted as though to follow him. “Let him calm down first.”

“How is it that you _always_ know what I’m going to do?” Harry demanded without any real venom in his voice, and Severus’s mouth quirked into a faint smile.

“After three years of sharing a bed with you, and after knowing you since you were but a wilful child, I believe it is safe to assume that by now I _know_ you, Harry,” Severus said as he snaked an arm around Harry’s waist and drew him closer. “Your knee-jerk reaction is still to jump in and help at a moment’s notice, even when logic tells you that it would be better to let the dust settle first. Draco knows that you are not trying to infantilize him; he just needs some time to himself to calm down and recall that fact.”

“Maybe _you_ should’ve become the Mind Healer instead of me,” Harry said with a warm chuckle as he settled back into Severus’s embrace, and picked back up his nauseatingly festive mug of hot chocolate, and sipped the drink before he continued. “You always seem to know what’s the best way to help Draco, or me, or...well, _anyone_ , for that matter.”

“I haven’t the patience for dealing with people I am not fucking,” Severus replied blithely, which made Harry bark a laugh.

“You helped me with Hermione, remember?” Harry said, “and unless there’s something you’re not telling me, I’m fairly certain that you’ve never shagged _her_.”

“Harry, _must_ you be so repulsive?” Severus demanded with a shudder, which made Harry laugh. “I was helping _you_ help her. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Harry echoed, but he was still smiling with amusement as he curled up close to Severus, despite the fact that the young man was practically in his lap at this point.

“I will admit,” Severus said after a pause, sipping his own tea as he gathered his thoughts, “she is not as...insufferable as she was as a student; and certainly less outgoing than she used to be, although I suspect that that is from her despicable treatment at Mr Weasley’s hands, rather than anything positive. But she is improving, I trust?”

“Yeah,” Harry affirmed as he nodded his head a little. “Most of her...er, _quietness_ was from Ron being such a complete bastard to her, and she gets jumpy if a man raises his voice at her, which I can’t blame her for, considering all that’s happened. But in the last year, she’s been doing a lot better, like better-better, not just her trying to go unnoticed, if that makes sense.”

“It does,” Severus replied, “and, as I understand it, she is bringing a date to tomorrow evening’s dinner?”

“She is,” Harry said, nodding as a small smile spread across his lips. “She won’t tell me who it is, though. She only told me that I know them, but I’ve gone through every bloke I know—even her exes, and she says it's none of them, so I haven’t got a _clue_ who she’s bringing.”

“Considering her recent aversion to men, are you certain that it _is_ a man?” Severus arching an eyebrow, and Harry’s eyes widened at the suggestion.

“I...hadn’t thought of that,” Harry admitted with a slight shrug, though he did not seem particularly horrified at the prospect of his closest friend possibly being bisexual. “I mean, I don’t remember her ever being into girls when we were at Hogwarts, she only ever seemed into blokes.”

“In truth, that doesn’t say much,” Severus replied, and arched an eyebrow at Harry. “As I recall, you only dated women during your time at Hogwarts as well, and now you are involved with not one, but _two_ men.”

“That’s true...” Harry mused as he rolled the empty mug between his hands, then set it aside before he leant in to rest his head on Severus’s shoulder. “Well, as long as they’re good to her, I don’t care if it’s a man, woman, or both.”

“On this, I have to agree with you, Harry.”

 

~

 

For another hour, Harry and Severus sat curled up on the sofa, not speaking, but alternating between watching the blizzard that was brewing outside, and watched the crackling fire in the grate. Harry’s expression was slightly pinched as he watched the flurry of snow outside the window, and Severus knew that his mind was on Belvedere, his pet snake, but Severus was certain that it was warm and humid enough in the greenhouse that no harm would come to the beloved reptile, despite Harry’s concerns.

 

“Time for bed, I should think,” Severus said as he finally finished his tea, and banished their dishes to the kitchen with a short flick of his wand. “Draco has likely calmed down by now.”

“In theory, anyway,” Harry retorted, and Severus smirked, but did not answer.

As one, the pair got up and headed towards the bedroom, where they stripped down, and slipped into bed on either side of Draco, who upon seeing them enter, put down his book, and crossed his arms.

“I’m still cross with you,” Draco said, and Severus watched with amusement as Harry rolled his eyes, and kissed the blond’s cheek.

“I actually did notice, love,” Harry said as he stretched out next to Draco, who was determinedly not looking at either of them.

“I think that it might be best for us all to get some sleep,” Severus said firmly in an effort to defuse the situation before Harry and Draco began to bicker. “We are going to have a busy day tomorrow, which will be doubly stressful if we are lacking sleep.”

Draco grumbled again, but did not protest as he rolled over—pointedly _away_ from Harry—and returned to his book. Harry appeared troubled by Draco’s attitude, but did not protest, moving in the spoon with Draco as he always did, before he seemed to think better of it, and hugged a pillow to his chest instead, then set aside his glasses and shut his eyes.

“Do you plan on forgiving him before tomorrow morning?” Severus murmured to Draco, who let out a tiny huff, but otherwise ignored the older man. “Draco—”

“Leave it, Severus,” Draco said, still not looking up from his book as he spoke.

Severus pursed his lips, but otherwise did not protest. With a defeated sigh, he closed his own eyes and began to debate the benefits of making Draco talk it all out, but in the end, he decided that preserving the peace of their bedroom far outweighed his need to get Draco to open up about his problems, of which there were many. Severus knew better than most that it would take more than a handful of years for Draco to overcome everything that weighed him down, in particular the root of his current ill mood—for it was quite clear to Severus that his mind was still on his parents, and not on the gifts under the Christmas tree.

Severus slowly willed himself to sleep, and hoped that Draco’s foul mood would burn itself out before tomorrow.

 

~

 

The next morning, Harry woke Severus and Draco excitedly at the crack of dawn with a wide grin upon his face.

“Come on, you lazy bones!” Harry cried as he shook both of them awake with one hand, while he held out a platter with crumpets and black coffee in the other. “It’s Christmas! Up you get!”

“ _Nooo_ ,” Draco moaned drowsily as he burrowed his face into Severus’s chest, then threw a pillow over his head for good measure. “Too early...”

“Come on, love, I have coffee and crumpets, and I _might_ have pasties waiting in the sitting room if you get up before Severus eats them all.”

Both Draco and Severus snorted derisively at that—they all knew Severus’s abhorrence of cloyingly sweet _anything_ would mean it would be a miracle if he even _touched_ the bloody things.

“Oh, fine, fine...” Draco grumbled as he sat up, his hair sticking up every which way as he glared at Harry. “Coffee?”

Harry smiled, and handed him his favourite glass mug, filled to the brim with good, strong black coffee, before he handed Severus his preferred black mug, topped up with the same.

“And you said something about pasties?” Draco croaked as he sipped his coffee, while Severus helped himself to one of the crumpets, which was dripping with butter.

“You have to get out of bed and into your pyjamas if you want them,” Harry teased, grinning as he set aside the tray, though pointedly close enough to the bed that Severus could still reach the crumpets. “Last year’s festive Christmas pyjamas that I got you two seemed to have _mysteriously_ disappeared— _again_ —so I got you each a new pair!”

Severus bit the inside of his cheek to stifle a groan of frustration. Harry’s taste in _festive_ clothing had a rather unfortunate track record of being completely horrid, and both he and Draco exchanged nervous looks as Harry handed them each a wrapped parcel, the pliability of which made it clear that it was clothing of some kind.

“Why did you bother to wrap it if you’re going to tell us what it is?” Draco asked. His tone of voice carefully neutral as he spoke, while Harry smiled at him warmly.

“It’s _festive_ ,” he said, a word Severus was quickly beginning to loathe, but he kept his face carefully blank while they both set their coffees aside, and reluctantly unwrapped the packages.

“Oh,” Draco said, his eyes widening a little as he pulled out a set of silk pyjamas, black, with narrow stripes of silver laid into the pattern. Severus’s was similar, also black, but with narrow stripes of green in place of the silver, and the chest pocket upon each pyjama top bore a simple embroidered sprig of holly, indicating that they were indeed Christmas-themed, but blessedly more minimalist in design than Harry’s previous choices.

“This is...better,” Severus said without thinking, and both Draco and Harry snorted with laughter.

“ _Very_ tactful, Severus,” Draco said between chuckles. “I’m impressed.”

“Don’t think I didn’t miss the way your festive pyjamas from last year and the year before disappeared,” Harry said with a self-satisfied smirk as he crossed his arms. “I _was_ an Auror, you know. Also you didn’t do as good a job hiding the evidence as you think, Severus. When I was cleaning out the fire grate, I found a piece of scorched green cloth patterned with reindeer, which, as I recall, were last year’s pyjamas from me to you.”

“I am hardly the type to wear something as hideously garish as what you chose last year, or the year before,” Severus replied, thinking of the violet, gingerbread-patterned pyjamas that had preceded the horrid reindeer ones, and he shuddered minutely. “You have however amended yourself with this year’s choices, Harry, thank you.”

“Yes, these are indeed better,” Draco agreed, “those Father Christmas ones from last year were awful, and the fuzzy-wuzzy snowflake ones? I was beginning to think you had no fashion sense at _all_.”

“I don’t,” Harry teased, “why do you think I wear jeans and T-shirts when we go out everywhere in the muggle world? Now, come on, get dressed so we can get to the fun part of Christmas morning!”

Chuckling, both Severus and Draco reluctantly crawled out of bed, stretching and groaning as they went, and pulled on their new pyjamas before they transported their coffees out of the bedroom and towards the sitting room, Harry leading the way with the crumpets in hand, sporting his own set of Christmas-themed pyjamas, which were the hideously _festive_ sort Harry seemed to prefer—bright red, patterned with Santa hats and candy canes.

In the sitting room, as promised, was a platter of freshly-baked pasties, croissants, and other goods, the tops crusted with sugar, and smelling sweetly of apples, cinnamon, and pumpkin. The tree was also bedecked with gifts in bright wrapping paper, and a roaring fire was crackling in the grate, suffusing the space with warmth, while outside the storm from the previous night seemed to have blown itself out, and the entire view from the window seemed to sparkle with the fresh blanket of snow.

Harry crouched by the tree, and paused momentarily to sip his own morning coffee, while Severus and Draco sat down upon the sofa. Draco swapped his coffee for one of the square pasties, the sugar on top crunching as he wolfed down the apple-filled treat, then went in for a second one.

“Hungry?” Harry asked sweetly, and Draco glared at him.

“Shud ub, Podder,” Draco said thickly as he bit into a pumpkin-filled pasty.

“So, should I start handing out gifts, or should I wait for Draco to finish?” Harry asked as he balanced himself on his thighs, and sipped his coffee again, though even at a distance, Severus could see him bouncing a little with barely-restrained excitement. Draco offered up a glare at the remark, while Severus hid his amusement behind his own coffee cup. Harry was always like an excited ten-year-old on Christmas morning, and though it tended to be a little aggravating at times, for the moment Severus found it endearing, and could live with it. After all, once all this morning business was out of the way, he could have a short rest before he began to prepare for his house being flooded with _people_.

“What is this?” Draco demanded when he finally swallowed, “Pick On Draco Day?”

“Start handing out gifts, Harry,” Severus said before the brunet could respond to Draco’s comment. “Before you explode.”

Harry offered Severus a wry smile at the remark, but did as he was told, and began to pass out the gifts.

 

In addition to the pyjamas, Harry also gave Severus a box of dark chocolates filled with brandy, and a new green scarf, while Draco gifted him with a good bottle of scotch, and The _Arden Shakespeare_ edition of _Hamlet_.

Severus brushed his fingers over the dark blue cover of the book while offered Draco a soft smile, which he returned. He paused midway through unwrapping a new pair of lovely dragonhide hiking boots to reach over to Severus, and he squeezed his hand gently.

“Thank you, Draco,” Severus said, and Draco nodded once, still smiling, as he went back to unwrapping the boots.

 

In addition to the gifts from Draco and Harry, Severus also received a few gifts from other people. It was primarily more bottles of liquor from Andromeda and Minerva, but he also received a surprisingly insightful book from Hermione called, _A Treatise on the Benefits of Locally Sourced Potions Ingredients versus the Drawbacks of Outsourced Ingredients, With Particular Emphasis on Local Earth Magics of Britain and Its Effects Upon Various Common Brews._

His final gift was a collection of sweets from Teddy, all of which only a ten-year-old would truly find appealing—and Harry, apparently, who happily took the box of sweets off of Severus’s hands when he offered it to him.

In Draco’s lap was a small pile of gifts of his own which he was observing happily, if a little more reservedly than usual. He had received new boots from Severus, a very tasteful suede cloak from Harry, as well as a large box of expensive dark chocolate truffles, and a fancy box of earl grey tea, which, despite Severus’s preference for Darjeeling, he had to admit smelt _very_ good.

At last, Harry, who had been quite keen to start the handing out of gifts, was still working through his little pile, which included a few books on mental health from Hermione, a bottle of wine from Andromeda, more of the cloying sweets that he preferred from his other friends as well as from Teddy, and his last gift, from Draco and Severus both, he was holding out in his hands, weighing the rectangular parcel while he eyed it curiously.

“Something wrong, Harry?” Draco asked, which caused Harry to stop what he was doing and glance up, and he offered Draco a small, reassuring smile.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Harry reassured him, “I just couldn’t figure out why this box is so heavy, that’s all. I thought it would be clothes, since you two _always_ get me clothes, but it’s kind of...oddly heavy.”

“In most places, one would _unwrap_ the gift to see what it is,” Severus pointed out as he arched a brow at him, “not just stare at it and guess.”

“Oh, right,” Harry replied as he flushed, and set the parcel down in his lap before he tore off the simple red paper, and found a nondescript cardboard box inside. Severus’s smile widened incrementally as Harry snapped off the spellotape binding it shut, and opened it, his eyebrows raising in surprise at what he saw.

A white shirt, dark trousers, black waistcoat and blazer, and a solid black tie, paired with simple black socks, and shiny patent leather shoes, and a green pocket square, which matched his eyes. It was an elegant suit, one which Draco had picked out for Harry, while Severus had sneakily taken his measurements over the last months while he had been sleeping.

“Wow,” Harry breathed as he gazed down at the various garments, at last lifting the blazer and eyeing the _Armani_ label, before he glanced up to his two lovers. “Thank you. This must’ve been...well, wow.”

“Now we can take you nice places without the slightest hint of embarrassment,” Draco teased, and Harry cracked a small smile in return.

“Shall I go try it on?” Harry asked, still gazing down at the various garments that made up the suit with a distinct look of awe in his gaze, almost as though he could not believe someone would spend so much money on him.

“Please do,” Draco replied, then added, “do you need help?”

“I think I can manage,” Harry retorted sarcastically as he gathered up the clothing, crushing it all in his arms in a way that made Draco wince a little, and he carried it all back into their bedroom to go get changed.

“He’s still uncomfortable with people buying him fine things,” Draco remarked after a moment as he grabbed his coffee cup, and took a small sip, “did you notice?”

“A by-product of his poor upbringing, I would assume,” Severus replied softly to ensure that Harry would not overhear. “He cannot understand why someone would bother shelling out so much gold—or pounds, in this case—on him. I do not think it means that he does not appreciate it, however, he just sometimes does not know how to react.”

“Knowing now what he’s been through, and being involved with the both of you, it’s truly amazing how... _joyous_ he is,” Draco said with a faint, wistful smile. “He’s just so strong...I wish I was like that.”

“You _are_ like that,” Severus replied, smirking a little as he put aside his coffee, and closed the distance between them in order to press a tender kiss to Draco’s lips. “You endured absolute hell for _years_ , and then somehow found the strength to recover from it. Would you not call that strong?”

“Well, when you put it like that it certainly _sounds_ better than it was...” Draco replied, smiling weakly, but he appeared unable to meet Severus’s eyes.

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but at the same moment, Harry stepped back into the room.

To Severus, Harry looked like a true prince. The suit, as Draco and Severus had predicted, fit perfectly, and Harry had added to the look by apparently wetting his hair with something, and he had swiped the dark locks from his eyes, giving it an artfully windswept appearance. The smooth lines of the suit looked very elegant on him, and instead of the cut making him look thin and scrawny (as he so often envision himself, despite the fact that this was probably the furthest thing from the truth) it made Harry look strong and masculine, like a boy had wandered off to the bedrooms, and he had returned as a man.

“Wow,” Draco breathed, echoing Harry’s sentiment from earlier, and stood up to go to him, Harry flushing a deep crimson as he spread out his arms awkwardly and turned so that Draco could see everything. “Harry, you look incredible.”

“It feels very...different,” Harry admitted, smiling weakly as he turned back to Draco. “I’ve never worn a suit like this before. It’s not as uncomfortable as I thought it’d be, though.”

“Harry,” Draco said with a small laugh as he rested his hands at Harry’s hips, and drew him into a gentle kiss. “This is an _Armani_ suit. It’s not supposed to be uncomfortable.”

“He is correct,” Severus added as he stood and joined Draco and Harry, looking his lover up and down while he gave Severus a nervous, uncertain sort of smile. “It should be comfortable, both for its worth, and in the vain hope that you wear it as often as possible, because you look incredible in it, Harry.”

Harry flushed under the praise, while Severus chuckled as he leant in to kiss him lightly, just as Draco had done, before he murmured, “Merry Christmas, Harry.”

“Merry Christmas, Severus,” Harry said softly, “and you too, Draco,” he added, as he turned back to the blond, and kissed him again. “Thank you both for the suit, I love it.”

While Severus somewhat doubted Harry’s sentiment, given that clothes had never been one of the young man’s main interests. Severus smiled nonetheless, and wrapped an arm securely around Harry, until both he and Draco were pressed against him in an awkward three-way hug. He could not quite explain it, not even to himself, but something told Severus that this would be the best Christmas that they ever had.

 

~

 

Severus stood in the kitchen, his wand pointed at the goose in the roasting pan as he basted it, while his eyes flicked repeatedly to the back garden that laid just beyond the kitchen window, where Harry and Draco were having a rather violent-looking snowball fight.

Though Draco had promised to help him with the preparations for dinner, Severus could not find it in himself to be irritated with his Beautiful Boy as he watched them play. Severus saw Harry suddenly craft a snowball the size of a watermelon with his wand, and he huffed a soft laugh as he watched him pitch it at Draco, hitting him squarely in the face, which made Draco fall back into the snow heavily.

Even through the glass, Severus could hear Draco’s cries of, “ _that’s cheating!_ ” as he ran at Harry, who yelped when Draco tackled him bodily to the ground, and promptly began to stuff huge handfuls of snow down the front of his jumper.

Chuckling, Severus shook his head as he turned away and returned the goose to the oven, while he checked on the other pots that occupied the cooker, ensuring that everything was simmering or steaming at the right temperature.

As Severus worked, another smile came unbidden to his lips, as he was wont to do so often these last few years. This time, its cause was Harry, and his rather ingenious idea of challenging Draco to a snowball fight. It seemed as though the physical exertion was doing wonders for taking Draco’s mind off his parents, and like Severus himself, Harry was well-aware of how delicate Draco’s state of mind tended to be, especially on days like this, when thoughts of his estranged family was never far from his mind.

“It must be the Mind Healer parts of his brain at work...” Severus mused aloud, chuckling to himself again as he pulled out a slab of semisweet chocolate from the pantry, along with milk, cream, sugar, and marshmallows, and began to prepare a pot of hot chocolate for his two lovers.

 

~

 

“Ooh, hot chocolate!” Harry chirped the second the pair stepped inside, soaking wet, red-faced, and panting. “Thanks, love,” he added as he peeled off his boots, then moved in to kiss Severus on the cheek, before he hung up his cloak and headed to the bedrooms, presumably to change into something dry.

“He’s far too cheerful for someone who lost our little battle,” Draco mused, smirking a little despite his fatigue as he, too, removed his cloak and boots.

“It looked more like a draw from where I was standing,” Severus remarked, arching a brow at Draco, who shrugged a little.

“It was,” Draco admitted, “until Harry cheated, then I had to resort to... _drastic measures_.”

“Go change into something dry, Draco,” Severus said by way of reply, “before you catch a cold.”

Draco chuckled, and moved in to press a kiss to Severus’s lips, then followed Harry’s path back to the bedroom for some dry clothes.

 

Draco and Harry returned for their prepared mugs of hot chocolate, Harry in jeans and a red wool jumper, and Draco in black trousers and a matching button-down shirt, opened at the neck to show off a few scant inches of creamy skin. He was still a little red from the outside chill, but that did not take away from how delectable he looked, and Severus licked his lips unconsciously.

“Behave yourself, Severus,” Draco teased, and Harry chuckled a little. “We have guests coming over in about an hour, and it is hardly the time for a shag.”

“Actually, it’s always the time for a shag, but I have to agree that I don’t really relish the thought of Hermione or Andromeda or anyone walking in on us fucking,” Harry added as he picked up one of the mugs that Severus had prepared for them. “Are you able to leave your charges for a bit and come sit with us, at least?”

“I’m afraid I can’t at the moment,” Severus replied as he forced his gaze away from his two lovers, and back to the cooker. “The pease pudding might burn if I leave it unattended.”

At that, Severus had assumed the pair would have wandered off to sit by the fire, but instead they exchanged a look, nodded, and sat at either end of the little kitchen table with their drinks in hand.

Severus felt a new kind of warmth pool in the pit of his stomach, and he hid his pleased smile by turning back to the cooker, and checked on the steaming sprouts.

 

Harry and Draco kept Severus company for the better part of the afternoon, sometimes speaking, sometimes sharing a quick bite of a bread roll or biscuit, but mostly they sat in silence, enjoying one another’s company. It was a blessed peace that preceded the busy evening they were to have, and in addition, it seemed to help ease Draco’s mind, which, despite his outward appearance of calm, was clearly still plagued by thoughts of his parents, given that every time he thought Severus and Harry were not looking, Severus saw Draco’s pleasant little smile disappear, and a painfully familiar look of anguish replaced it.

At four o’clock exactly, there was a gentle knock upon their cottage door, and Harry hurried off (once more dressed in his new suit) to answer it. Severus listened to the sound of Andromeda and Teddy arriving, and Harry’s excited cry as he greeted them both, Andromeda’s compliments on his new clothes, and paired with the words that Severus had been dreading to hear—

“Er...is Severus here?” Teddy asked, a small, hopeful lilt in his voice, which made Harry chuckle.

“Yeah, he’s in the kitchen making dinner,” Harry replied, and Severus gritted his teeth. _Traitor_.

“Does he need any help?” Teddy asked, and Harry chuckled again.

“Go on and say hello,” Harry said, and Severus ground his teeth as he listened to the soft pitter-patter of his little shadow making its approach.

“I think I’ll go say hello—” Draco began, but Severus was quick to interrupt him.

“Don’t move,” he commanded. “I’ll not be left alone with that little demon.”

“Hi, Severus!” Teddy said breathlessly as he skidded to a halt in the entrance of the kitchen, his eyes wide and bright, and a faint flush was painting his cheeks. In that moment, the boy looked remarkably like his father at that age, save for the head of violet hair atop his head. Severus narrowed his eyes at the child, but he did not appear at all deterred by the older man’s sour mood.

“Gran helped me pick this out, it’s for you,” he said, and still flushing a little, Teddy held out the bag he had been carrying, which Severus noted was a wine bag from _Vin des Fées—_ French Fairy Wine, which tended to be drier than elf-produced wines, and also happened to be one of Severus’s favourites.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly as he stepped back from the stove to accept the bag, and he ground his teeth when Teddy positively _beamed,_ then sat down across from Draco at the little table, though his eyes never left Severus.

“So, Teddy,” Draco said, breaking the silence as he got up to fetch the boy a mug of hot chocolate, though his warm smile still seemed to be rather weak. “What did Father Christmas bring you?”

 

While Teddy happily babbled to Draco about what he’d gotten for Christmas, Severus listened to the sound of Hermione arriving, paired with an unfamiliar female voice. Severus exchanged a knowing look with Draco, who smirked in response, but the expression was understandably still fairly subdued, which Severus did not fault him for.

“Hello, Severus,” a voice said from the doorway of the kitchen, and Severus turned to see Hermione and Katie Bell holding hands, Katie smiling nervously, while Hermione flushed a little as she looked across the space to her former professor.

“Miss Granger, Miss Bell,” Severus replied, nodding as he gazed from one young woman to the other. “Are you well?”

“Fine, thanks,” Hermione replied with a small, cheery smile, “we didn’t mean to disturb you, we just wanted to step in to say hello.”

“It is quite all right,” Severus replied as he waved his wand at the oven and cooker, then turned to the women. “I imagine Harry was quite surprised by your presence, Miss Bell.”

“Oh, well...” she giggled, and Severus saw the young woman’s hand tense over Hermione’s. “You know, we tried to give him hints in the lead up to Christmas, but you know Harry...”

“Yes, he tends to have the observation skills of a lump of coal,” Draco filled in as he stepped up to join them, and he snickered when Harry’s indignant voice rose to call back to them.

“ _I heard that!_ ”

“It’s a rather small house,” Severus added dryly, and the four adults laughed.

 

~

 

An hour later, after enjoying his time hidden away in the kitchen possibly a little too much, Severus somewhat reluctantly transported all the dishes to the dining room table, where he found that two extra chairs had been placed.

He knew that it had been Draco who had put them there in a vain hope that his parents might show up for dinner, and though he knew that the likelihood of them coming was about as likely as an apple tree growing in Antarctica, he did not have the heart to remove them. Instead, he called everyone for dinner, and all of their guests eyed the empty chairs curiously, while Severus stood and began to carve the goose.

“Are we expecting someone else?” Hermione finally asked, and blinked in confusion when Harry opened and closed his mouth, at a loss for words, while Draco dropped his gaze to his lap and began to fiddle with his napkin.

“Never mind, Miss Granger,” Severus said in a firm, _no arguments_ tone of voice that he did not expect her to wholly abide, but he was surprised when she did indeed fall silent. When Severus glanced up, he saw Hermione alternating between watching Draco, and staring at the empty chairs, a look of understanding slowly dawning in her eyes.

_She was always rather intelligent_ , Severus mentally acquiesced as he went back to carving the goose, _despite her irritating, know-it-all proclivities._

As Severus finished carving, the others around the table began to open their crackers with their neighbour, and Teddy pointedly waited until Severus was finished when he held out one end to him, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

Severus rolled his eyes, let out an impatient huff, and grabbed the end of the cracker. It let out a deafening explosion before the smoke cleared, revealing a set of Gobstones and a sparkly tiara, which Teddy happily snatched up and perched atop his head.

“How’s it look, Uncle Harry?” Teddy asked, still grinning as Hermione and Katie began to giggle a little at the boy’s antics.

“It looks fine, Ted, but aren’t tiaras...y’know, for girls?” Harry asked uncertainly as he straightened his own pirate hat, and Teddy scoffed.

“I don’t have to be a girl to like pretty things, Uncle Harry,” Teddy said, “that’s...that’s...somethingism.”

The group laughed, but Draco did not join in.

Severus watched his Beautiful Boy, who was holding onto a red bowler hat and fiddling with the brim, but he had not yet put it on. His eyes were still fixed upon the empty chairs, disappointment in his gaze. Severus wanted to say something, console him somehow, but with their family and friends all around them, it hardly seemed to be the place for it. Instead he rested a hand on Draco’s knee, squeezing lightly, but Draco did not respond to the touch.

Quite suddenly, a soft, almost imperceptible sound filtered to Severus’s ears through the din.

A knock upon the door.

Severus stiffened, but Draco, so lost in his anguish, did not seem to hear it.

He passed the platter of meat to Andromeda, who served herself and Teddy before she passed it on, while Severus excused himself to go and see who it was, or if he was simply imagining things.

 

The knock sounded again as Severus got closer to the door, though he still hardly dared to believe it. After all this time, had Draco’s parents _finally_ come? Or had his own hope to see Draco smile again become so strong that he was now experiencing aural hallucinations?

Severus held his breath, hoping against hope that it was true, for Draco’s sake, if nothing else, and slowly, haltingly, he opened the door.

In wild contrast to his mind’s fervent denial, standing upon his doorstep, dressed in their finest evening clothes, were Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

In Narcissa’s hands, she carried a narrow box wrapped in shiny silver paper, and in Lucius’s was a bakery bag of what smelled like fresh bread rolls, as well as a bottle of wine. Both of them looked nervous and apprehensive, as though they expected Severus to slam the door in their faces.

Which, in truth, Severus was _very_ tempted to do.

“Lucius, Narcissa,” Severus greeted stiffly, “I had heard that Draco had invited you...every Christmas, for the last three years.”

Both adults bowed their heads at the remark. Lucius’s expression was blank, but his body language seemed to speak of a strange acceptance, as though he knew that he deserved his harsh words.

Narcissa, in contrast, seemed quite close to tears, but in true Malfoy fashion, she pushed it all away until she once more exuded a mask of calm, one Severus had seen Draco adopt many times over the last few years when things became difficult, and he wanted to appear unaffected by the ill news.

To their reactions, Severus did not say a word, but continued to glare at them both accusingly, until it was Narcissa who broke the silence first.

“I have no logical or practical reason for ignoring his invitations, save that I did not feel ready to see him,” Narcissa said softly as she lifted her gaze to Severus, almost in defiance of his silent judgment of her, but she quickly dropped her gaze again. “I knew from his many letters that he was recovering, thanks in no small part to yourself and Mr Potter, but I could not bring myself to see him, after knowing what he had done, both to himself, and for the sake of our family. I was ashamed of him and for him, but so too was I ashamed for myself—selfishly so.”

“He never stopped wondering, and he never stopped asking for you,” Severus said coldly. “If I allow you to see him, you re-enter his life fully, and not as a one-off to suffuse your guilt.” Severus paused, and crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he stared at them, trying to gauge their intent. If they hurt his Beautiful Boy, there would be hell to pay, regardless if they were Draco’s parents or not. “I refuse be part of this if you intend to never see him after this; I will _not_ let you put him through that. Am I making myself clear?”

“That is not my intent, Severus,” Narcissa said softly, but firmly. “I want my son back in my life, as much as he shall allow it.”

“ _Want to see Draco_ ,” Lucius added, but shockingly, not with his words, but with his hands.

Severus arched a brow, and Narcissa glared, as though she expected Severus to offer up a cutting remark for her husband’s disability.

“Come in,” Severus relented at last, heart in his throat and eyes still narrowed as he shut the door behind them and accepted their coats, while they divested themselves of their boots. Severus hung them up, then began to stride back towards the dining room, several paces ahead of the two guests.

“There you are, Severus,” Draco said with forced amiability in his voice, “we were wondering what was keeping—”

Draco’s words abruptly broke off when his parents hesitantly followed Severus into the room.

Hermione covered her mouth, Harry’s jaw dropped open, and Andromeda stiffened at the sudden appearance of her sister. Teddy and Katie bore similar looks of confusion, though both had the good sense to stay silent as they watched the newcomers slowly inch into the room.

Slowly, hesitantly, as though he could scarcely believe his eyes, Draco got up, circled the table, and began to approach them.

“Mother?” Draco asked as Severus stepped aside, and he slowed to a halt before them, his voice soft and childlike. “Father?”

“Hello, Draco,” Narcissa said, and pressed the thin package into his hands. “Happy Christmas.”

“ _Happy Christmas, Draco,_ ” Lucius signed, making the others, once more, exchange mystified looks, while Draco shakily signed a thank-you in response, which made Lucius’s eyes light up with an almost childlike joy.

Draco’s bottom lip quivering, Draco shifted his gaze to the package in his hands, and unwrapped the gift.

Severus watched as the silver paper fell away to reveal a medium-sized black picture frame, but instead of it containing a photograph, it was an embroidered landscape. It was crafted all in black and white, with an image of a dragon taking flight over a small, indiscernible village. The creature seemed to be flying to freedom, rather than fleeing some sort of unseen danger, which, curiously, seemed to be quite a poignant piece to gift him with, especially when one considered all that Draco had been through over the last few years.

“Thank you, Mother,” Draco said, his voice hoarse as he tried to keep his emotions in check, “it’s beautiful.”

As though something in the three Malfoys broke all at once, mother, son, and father abandoned their usual sense of decorum and rushed into a group hug.

Items toppled from their hands as they embraced one another and wept openly, and only Harry and Severus’s quick wandwork stopped the items from impacting with the hard floor, as the little family did not seem to even notice that the things had fallen.

Harry stood up silently, his eyes shiny, and he helped Severus carry the bread rolls, wine, and piece of art over to the table, giving the family a quiet moment together to embrace and compose themselves. Teddy opened his mouth to speak, but Andromeda quickly hushed him, while Hermione leant in to whisper in the boy’s ear, and some of the confusion upon his face began to fade.

Severus had finished hanging the photograph upon the wall across from Draco’s seat when Draco stepped back into the dining room with his parents. His eyes, like those of the two elder Malfoys, were still rather red, but no one was senseless enough to remark on it as Lucius and Narcissa sat down on either side of their son, and served themselves in silence.

“Well, I’m starving,” Harry said, offering a warm smile to each of their newest guests as he reached for his knife and fork. “Shall we begin?”

“Yes,” Severus agreed as he reached for his wine goblet, while Draco’s smile brightened at the nonchalance that his two lovers were conducting themselves with. “Let’s eat.”

 

The End

 


End file.
